


Vesav, Act One: Chasing the Horizon

by GryphonRampant



Series: Vesav [1]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: A loose novelization of the game, Biotic Ryder, Canon-Typical Violence, Demi/pansexual male lead, Drack is everyone's granddad, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Jaal and Ryder are both the heroes of this story, Polynesian female lead, SAM learns to humor, Slight Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, mostly focused on action and character/relationship development, with occasional nerdy tangents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-05-13 21:39:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 47,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14756792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GryphonRampant/pseuds/GryphonRampant
Summary: Follows the adventures of Masina Ryder, a sarcastic, irreverent vanguard who did not sign up for saving the galaxy, and our dear Jaal Ama Darav as they grow from strangers to friends (and maybe something more). Completed first act of a larger work in progress.





	1. Casting Off

Tulilemasina (Masina) Ryder.  
Human, female.  
Born: Apia, Upolu, Oceanic Confederacy, Earth.  
Age: 22  
Assignment: Pathfinder team, Ark Hyperion.  
Combat specialty: Biotic Vanguard.  
Primary role: Recon Specialist.

She lifted the footlocker and slid it into place. _Everything to connect me to home, here on one box_.

Her brother slotted his footlocker in next to hers.

“You ready to be Enele the Popsicle?” Masina asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just hang back for a while. Get a minute on you.” 

“Don’t you dare.” She shot back, throwing a playful punch. He blocked, twisting her into a hug.

“Got you now!” Enele teased. They laughed together.

 “Psh, not if I get you first,” Masina said, poking the ticklish spot along his ribs as she ducked away. They walked together, laughing and bantering, past the massive wall of footlockers, each one clearly labeled, each one carrying another colonist’s whole world.

The cryostasis waiting area was crowded with people. Farewells were being said in so many languages. She named them off in her head. _Korean, French, Portuguese, Arabic, the English-Russian pidgin of Elysium, Mandarin, Spanish, American English, German, that might be Tagalog, Aussie English, Japanese. Humanity, from every background and walk of life, all here to share in the same dream. All the same heartwarming kind of crazy._

Viewscreens took up the far walls, showing artist’s renditions of the new homes that awaited them: Sweeping, majestic mountain vistas covered in green. A home surrounded by gigantic mushrooms. A human family playing with a golden retriever on a pebble beach. A volcanic lake surrounded by a brilliant violet forest.

 “I can’t believe it’s finally time,” Masina said.

“What do you think mom would say, about… all this?” He gestured vaguely towards the viewscreens, projecting hopeful images of the golden worlds.

“Probably that we’re all crazy, and she’s coming with to keep us out of trouble.” She replied as a pair of technicians approached.

“Masina and, uh, Enele Ryder?” said the first technician, a red-haired man, “It’s time.”

The twins rested their foreheads together, breathing in and out in synchrony.

“Okay,” she said, as they finished their _hongi_. “Here we go. Sweet dreams, tuagane.”  

The technician gestured for Masina to follow him down one of the long halls of the cryo bay. Tracks lined the walls for pod storage, mostly empty still. _Perks of getting into the Initiative early: first in, first out._

 “Don’t oversleep, tuafafine,” Enele called, as his technician led him deeper into another wing the bay. “I want that minute!”

“Here we go,” the technician said, gesturing to a cryo pod laid flat on its track. “Your new home. ‘Least til we get to our proper new home.”

Masina gave the pod a skeptical once-over. _Just a big white box with a pallet inside,_ she thought, _and a little window in the lid so they can know who drools in their sleep. All on top of a mountain of tech to keep us cozy._  

“Looks kinda uncomfortable,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “You sure this thing’s good for a six-hundred-year nap?”

“Ha, you’re a funny one, eh? I gotcha,” the tech said, adjusting the pod settings on his omni-tool. “Big step we’re all takin’ today. Seen all types of copin’ strategies. Humor’ll treat you right, better than the boozers or the stoics.”

_He’s rambling. Must have to hear people’s apprehension all day. How many people has he put under in the last four hours? Everybody’s last words, that’s a job I don’t envy._

“But t’answer your question: we’ll put you in a stasis field-the bed there’s just a formality for the hour or so at each end of the trip.”

“So I’ll be a _floating_ popsicle?” Masina grinned, gripping the edge of the pod.

The tech grinned. “Right on one! Settle in, now.”

She climbed into the pod and laid down. _So, this is where I’ll spend the vast majority of my life, proportionally. Napping in a freezer._ A jolt of electricity stung through her, and she gave the technician an annoyed glance.

“Amp check. Can’t have it interfering with the stasis field. You’re all good to go, Miss Masina.” The tech pulled out a small syringe and began searching for a vein. “This is a sedative to help you go down. Don’t fight it, okay?” A tiny pinprick, and Masina suddenly felt a bit woozy.

Through the rising haze, she heard the tech ask about her tattoos.

“I’m Samoan. Oceanic Confederacy girl all the way, you know?”

“And that means tattoos?”

“Psh, yeah. We invented tattoos. Tattoo is our word.”

“Thought you Ryders were fancy Citadel ambassadors most of your life.”

“They didn’t make us leave our culture in quarantine, though. We kept up with our family. Lots of visits. I still got my grandma’s panipopo recipe. My uncle taught me to sail. Was part of trimaran racing crew for a little while. Nanoweave and carbon fiber. Fastest ship outside of vacuum, I’d bet.”

“So what’s the ink about?”

“Don’t fight the sedative, he says. Tell me about your life story, he says. You’re worse than a dentist,” she said, her words beginning to slur. _Damn, that stuff acts faaast_.

“Hey, can’t blame me for bein’ curious. Most folks I’ve put under don’t have much in the way of roots.”

She tried to run a finger across her newest tattoo where it ran around her neck. The technician grabbed her wobbly arm and put it back into place at her side. Interlocking hexagons, bringing to mind the armor mesh of a starship. It extended down the top of her back, hexes and circuit patterns giving way to starmaps representing earth, the citadel, and the homeworlds of the other peoples who were a part of the Initiative, and connecting to the older bands of black ink across her body, the sandpiper-feet and fa’i leaves marked out in the traditional patterns.

 _To know where you are going, you must first know where you’ve been_ , she thought, forgetting to answer the tech aloud, as her eyes drifted closed. It was her uncle’s first rule of sailing.  The current, the winds and the stars can guide you from there.

Sailing across the void to find a new home, carrying the Milky Way with her. 

The pod was closed, and Masina hung suspended, frozen in the dark. Yet the processes of her mind did not stop, not entirely. Synapses fired in slow motion, creeping through her mind, and she dreamed.  Sailing across dark waters to the edge of the horizon. Sailing between the stars.  Each wave took years to crash against the bow of her ship, and yet she felt as though she were moving impossibly fast.

***

The pillow felt scratchy under her cheek.

 _Inferior bedding. Two stars._ Her eyes didn’t seem to want to open just yet. _Did my alarm go off? Did I even set an alarm? Where the hell did I fall asleep that has such horrible pillows?_ She blinked her eyes open. _Ah, the cryo tech._

 _“_ Hey, you,” she rasped. _Ugh, throat feels like I ate a sandblaster._ “You were asking me about… something. What was it you were wanting to know? And… maybe I can have some coffee before I tell you?”

“Hah, you remember that?” the technician said, waving a medscanner across her. “Been waiting six hundred years for an answer.”

“Six hundred—!” she bolted up in the bed. “We’re here?! We made it?!”

“Easy, easy. You’ll set yourself up to faint if you keep rocketing around like that.” He set his free hand on her shoulder to steady her. “Yes, we made it. Haven’t exploded even a little bit.” A shiver of static ran through her as her amp came back online. “Alright, everything looks good here,” he said, helping her to her feet. “Go out to the med bay and have a cuppa.”

“Wait, my brother. You didn’t wake him up before me, did you?”

“Uh…” The tech swiped through a list on his omni-tool. “Looks like they’re bringing him out in ten, long as his tech doesn’t take a coffee break.”

_Ten minutes. Oh, little brother. You will never hear the end of this._

The same planetscape slideshow was running on the viewscreen. Masina sat at the end of one of the medical beds, working on a cup of coffee. No crowds here, just a dozen or so individuals, part of the team handpicked by the Pathfinder.

 _We really made it. No turning back now; that little gnawing voice that kept asking if I really want to do this is gone. It’s pointless to doubt anymore._ She took an odd comfort in that. _I guess…there’s a peace that comes with having nowhere to go but forward. Almost everyone I knew back in the Milky Way must be dead. No, don’t dwell on that. Better to think of them living out their lives alongside us._

The voiceover accompanying the slideshow was slightly different. Somehow the announcer sounded even more cheery.

“Now you are part of the first wave of arks arriving in Andromeda, our new home for humanity.”  She saw the asari doctor twitch at the word ‘humanity.’ _Exclusivity. Thought we were supposed to be leaving all that behind. Somebody didn’t think announcer man through_.

The asari doctor approached.

“Ryder, is it?” she asked. “I need to run a few more checks. The Pathfinder wants you all on your feet right away.”

 _Right, let’s get the same old tests out of the way,_ she thought. _Look left, look right. Amp checks.  Lift the pen, drop the pen, good girl_.

“SAM connection looks good. Everything checks out,” the doctor said, stepping away. “If you like, you can hang around while we revive your brother. It always help to—“ 

An ominous rumble echoed through the ship. Masina could feel… something. A gravitational anomaly, like a biotic shockwave skipping through the fabric of reality, only this felt distant, and much, much bigger.

“Guys,” Masina said, wide-eyed, “I have a bad feeling—"

They were all thrown to the ground by the force of something impacting the ark. A terrible whine of warping metal assailed their ears.

_Artificial gravity’s imbalanced. Got to—Woah!_

One of the cryo pods was sliding towards her at impressive speed, threatening to pin her and the doctor to the wall behind them.

She flared her biotics. _Heavy is: not this way_!  The pod flew up and over them, and then gravity cut out entirely.

_Okay, looks like nobody got crushed to paste today, gravity generator’s dead, that guy over there is spinning in circles like an idiot, and Enele’s still a popsicle. He **would** be sleeping through a crisis. He’s going to be so pissed he missed it._

“Hey SAM!” she yelled. “How do we get ‘down’ working again?”

“The field generator for this section of the ship was overloaded and initiated an emergency shutdown,” SAM’s cool synthesized voice flowed out of their comms.

“Yeah, we noticed,” Ryder yelled. “Can we get it back?”

“You may cycle main power to the field at a console to the right of the door.”

 _We’re millions of light years from home,_ she thought, pulling herself along the bulkhead to the console, _on a space ark, in space, and the best solution to tech problems is still ‘have you tried turning it off and on again?’_

“Alright everyone,” she called, “initiating power cycle. Get ready to hit the deck.”

People, pods, and medical equipment all hit the floor in a series of thumps.

“We okay?” Masina called to the team. “Nobody got stabbed or squished?”

“No injuries here,” the previously spinning man called. “What the hell was that?”

The comms overhead crackled. “This is the Pathfinder. Mission teams, continue preparations. Ryders, report to the bridge.”

“Ryder, we have a problem over here.” one of the technicians called, standing over a sparking pod. He paused, stepping aside for the asari doctor to have access to the pod. “It’s your brother.”

She rushed over to the pod. _NO. No. No, Enele is fine. He has to be fine._ “Is he okay?”

“His vitals are strong,” the asari said, looking up from her omni-tool, “but the revival procedure was interrupted. He… won’t be waking up today.”

“Why not? When can he wake up?”

“The pod’s failsafes went into effect, protecting him from permanent brain damage by putting him into a low-level coma. His body will need time to recover from the shock. We’ll have to wait for him to wake up naturally.”

“How long will that take?”

“Until he’s ready. It might be the better part of a year, or just a few weeks. It depends on how much damage was done before the failsafes caught him.”

 “Better part of a…He is out of stasis, right? He’s aging? He’d be pissed if he woke up even younger than me.”

“Yes, Ryder,” the asari replied tersely, “he’s aging. Now get up on the bridge, the Pathfinder’s waiting.”

Through the entirety of the tram ride across the Hyperion, her thoughts stayed with her brother. _Going to a new world without my tuagane. This isn’t right_. _We’re intended to be a team. It’s what we’ve trained for. We can work apart, sure, but it’s not half of the mayhem we can achieve together._

_We’ve been training together since our biotics manifested. Went to Grissom Academy and Alliance training together. Human biotics: rare. Human twins: also rare. Biotic twins who’ve been training together since manifestation? It’s a hell of a lightshow._

_We complement each other. Surfing and sailing, attack and defense, sword and shield._

_He can’t miss this._

The bridge was bustling with orderly chaos. Ensigns dashed from console to console as Captain Dunn and the Pathfinder shouted orders.

“What’s going on?” she asked, slipping in next to Harper.

“Ships on reserve power, sensors are fried, and flight controls aren’t responding,” Harper replied. She gestured out the bridge viewports, “but at least we know what we hit.”

Silver and gold filigree filled the void around them. Flares of energy danced across it, like lightning through a storm, or impulses through neurons. It was beautiful, whatever it was.

“So what is it?” Masina asked.

“Best guess?” Harper shrugged. “Some sort of energy cloud. We know it induces gravitational anomalies.”

“Alek, please…” said Captain Dunn, standing at the central command console below. “You may be Pathfinder, but this is _my_ ship. I need to assess the damage. Stop the bleeding.”

 _Aleki Ryder is, and always has been, a very good soldier,_ Masina thought, watching her father shouting orders across the bridge. _He is not, and has never been, a very good team player._ He was one of the first generation of biotics, who were not received terribly well by the rest of humanity. The foreign man even in the squad, he had always had trouble bridging the gaps between people. _Coulda used a twin himself._ Alek had taken his wife’s name to try and fit in, and had homed in on his talent for oratory, but even that couldn’t make him a people person.

“Navigation’s back online!” the helmsman called. “Bringing us out of the cloud.”

A planet appeared through the streams of filigree, a jade green orb girded by rings. And where the cloud came to meet it…

_The planet…It looks like the cloud ate it. Scoured off the biosphere like frosting off a cupcake._

“That’s Habitat Seven,” Alek stated. “New Earth, if we’re lucky.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Masina murmured.

“It’s nothing at all like what we saw with the long-range scans,” Harper replied.

“You know I want to know what’s under every damn rock down there,” Masina muttered to Harper, “But… we’ve got a lot of people napping down in the bays that are a better brand of crazy than me. Maybe we could rendezvous with the Nexus, make repairs to the ark, and then come back to poke around the crispy mess down there.”

 “We’ve had no contact with the Nexus,” Alek said, turning to regard the two of them, “or any of the other arks. Protocol is clear: in their absence, we proceed to our assigned golden world.”

 _And we wouldn’t want to go against protocol, would we?_ she thought. _That would hurt protocol’s feelings._ She rolled her eyes once Alek had turned back to the captain. Harper gave her a disapproving elbow. 

 _It’s not right, going down there while Enele’s still sleeping._ She watched her father climb to the center of the bridge, framed by the viewport. _Oh, here it comes: speech time._  

“We’re marooned. Twenty thousand souls adrift at sea. And when the power runs out, and stays out…” Alek gestured to the world behind him. “We need to know if that’s safe harbor.”

“And if it’s not?” asked the captain.

“As Pathfinder, it will be my job to find an alternative. It’s what we trained for. But if this goes well, we’re already home.”

She saw faces lighting up across the bridge. _Dad does have a way with words, I guess. Not sure it has the same impact when it’s the same man who lectured me about picking up my dirty socks, but if it works for them…I’m not going to knock what gives them hope._

The Pathfinder approached them. “Harper, have the crew spin up two shuttles. Planetfall in thirty.”

“Yes, sir.” Cora replied, and left the bridge. Alek turned to Masina.

“Where’s your brother?” he asked.

“Still sleeping”

“I gave the order—“

“There was a problem,” Masina said, daring to cut off the Pathfinder. “Enele’s pod was damaged when we hit the… thing, out there.”

“What’s his status?”

“Failsafes put him into a coma. Docs say he’ll wake up when he decides to wake up. It could be months.”

 _Come on, Dad,_ she thought, looking for some sign of emotion in his stern visage. _This isn’t just another soldier, or some mechanism of the ship. This is your son. You’re allowed to show you care a little bit._

“Your brother’s strong,” Alek said finally. “He’ll make it.”

“He better. Six-hundred-year nap, and he oversleeps?”

“He never was an early riser.”

“I don’t like this, Dad. With Enele down, and the planet looking like it does, this doesn’t feel right. What if we get clear of the fireworks out there and see if we can hail the Nexus again? We might not have to do this alone.”

“That’s our new world down there,” Alek replied sternly. “Years of work have brought us to this moment, and you want to back down now?”

“I sound like Enele,” Masina replied. “Come on, dad. You _know_ something’s wrong when I start sounding like my brother. He’s been keeping me from jumping off cliffs since we could walk.”

“We’d both rather have him awake with us. Just don’t let it get to you. I need you sharp.”

 _He’s not talking to me like a kid anymore,_ she thought. _He’s talking to me like a soldier._

_Maybe six hundred years did change some things._

“Yes, sir.”

“Your mother would have been proud. Of both of you.” Alek said, giving her his best fatherly smile. It did not suit his face well. “Now let’s go make history.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Disclosure: I am not Samoan, and while I've done the best research I can to reflect the culture accurately and respectfully, there may be errors I'm unaware of. If I'm doing it wrong, please please let me know, and I'll do my best to make corrections.  
> I happened to be studying the history of the Polynesian expansion in the fall and winter before the release of Andromeda, and thought it would be awesome to have my Pathfinder come from a people who have produced some of the most impressive feats of navigation and exploration in the history of humanity. Then the game launched, and Masina came to be the character she is today. I hope you enjoy her as much as I do.  
> Sit tight, Jaal's coming sooner than you think.


	2. Clarity

A gentle breeze wafted through the sunny open window of the tiny apartment, bringing with it the music and conversation of the Aya streets, smells of ripe fruit and volcanic stone and gunmetal.

Jaal sat by the window of his little room, enjoying the breeze, his projects spread around him. Perfume oils, plant essences, explosive catalysts, grenade housings, recipes and schematic texts, all lay scattered around in the properly ordered chaos of his workspace. It had started as only a few, when he had moved into these small quarters on Aya at the start of this vesaal. But over time, his projects had spread and new ones appeared. By now, his home was essentially a workshop with a bed in the corner.

At his elbow was a stack of thick pieces of polymer weave that had, until recently, been a piece of armor--he had removed the stitching, and had been meaning to restitch it with a better material in a color that complemented the shade of the armor proper. Beyond that, a few bits of plant matter bubbled in a retort. The reduced plant essences should produce a scent that was sweet and smooth mixed with spicy, and would leave a crisp afterscent.

He pulled the central coil from the ruined power cell he’d been disassembling and turned it appraisingly. _Almost completely fused._ _Could spin it for conductive armor weave, or… I suppose I could pull it into wire and make a new coil. Mm, might hammer it out too, the color would make a striking set of mantle piercings. Though, it not be quite enough for three--wouldn’t want to wear it without having the full set. The effect wouldn’t be as complementary._ He set the piece aside for now, digging deeper into the piece of tech any sensible mechanic would say was a lost cause.

As he tinkered, he would occasionally pass a hand across the interface of the data stream built into his gear. He could feel the information through his skin, words and impressions encoded in each electromagnetic pattern. It kept his eyes free to study his work.

 He reviewed the most recent reports to come in, messages from his contacts, notes from his missions, intel he had gathered and summarized for Evfra. Perhaps somewhere, in some back corner hidden under the rest, there was some piece that could be adjusted, something he had overlooked, to change the shape of the war.

Once you understood what each component did, the _relationships_ between all the pieces, then you could replace a part here and there, to improve the whole, or alter it towards a new purpose.

As it was, the angara and the kett were in a long stalemate.

He flipped through the most recent data points, assessing each one’s potential.

A researcher at Daar Tevet had accidentally activated a piece of remnant technology that might be repurposed as a weapon. He had been sent to investigate. She didn’t know how she had activated it and couldn’t replicate the process, and the tech appeared severely damaged. Unlikely.

An operative had requested and been sent information on the most recent kett encryptions, with the goal of creating a scrambler to cut off kett communications. Possible, but with the capricious nature of kett encryption changes, a temporary advantage at best.

A piece of technology recovered from non-kett aliens on Kadara, or so the seller had claimed to his contact. Promising, if true. But it was difficult to glean much from such a small device without context, and he was not entirely convinced it was genuine. Kadara had a reputation, after all, of being more duplicitous than the other homeworlds.

The timer wired into the retort chimed.

He closed the projection with a sigh, lowering the heat on the scent essence and examining it critically. _Mm. More bitter than I’d hoped. Perhaps it will do in a salve instead_. There was something, some way to adjust all the pieces and turn the war to their advantage, he was sure of it. There would be an end to this war, a solution to the problem of the kett. _But,_ he thought, _it will not all come together today._ He bottled the essence and set it aside. _I probably don’t even have the right pieces yet._

In any case, he had a mission to prepare for, as soon as the information packet being prepared for him arrived. He has been tasked with investigating a crashed ship on Havarl that was believed to be neither kett nor angaran in origin--another special mission from Evfra. Maybe this one would have an impact on the war--but he had hoped that about the last eighteen. Three-sixes of successful missions since his time on Aya began, but nothing worthy of promotion or accolades.

This had been a strange vesaal so far—with all the missions Evfra had sent him on, he had likely been in more danger since his time on Aya had begun than when he was helping the Resistance on Havarl with his family. Evfra had taken a special interest in his skills, had said he appreciated Jaal’s clarity and intellect, but still the leader persisted in ignoring his requests for greater tasks, for things worthy of recognition. It was deeply frustrating. His mothers were always asking when he expected a promotion to a command. It was without doubt that he would have one, they all seemed sure, but when, and of what kind? Feladyr encouraged him to win a position in black ops, like her true daughter. They had joined the Resistance at the same time, surely he would be promoted soon.

His mothers also wondered—often—about when he would bring home a partner to join the family. Always to join _their_ daar, that was never a question. Who wouldn’t want to be a prestigious Ama Darav? Vaasana and Sahuna had recently conspired to draw the attentions of Avela, the museum’s curator, for him, listing off all his attributes and good family connections. But he had not pursued something so…arranged. He would prefer to have nothing at all than something he had not earned. He and Avela knew each other as fellow students under the Moshae, but she was so busy, and had given up fieldwork much more readily than he would have. He had been drawn to study remnant technology for snap of new revelation, the wonder of discovery, not…filing.

Truthfully, he doubted he could hold her attentions anyway The Moshae had confided in him that Avela would most likely be her successor. He didn’t want to be with anyone again, seriously, until he was sure they would stand steadfast with him. Until he had earned that sort of loyalty. “While I suppose I _could_ carry on through heartbreak again,” he had told his true mother, “I would really rather not.”

He checked his messages again--still waiting on the infopacket for the next mission. He sat back, and acknowledged to himself that his heart and head were scattered with emotions, snapping at each other and fading away like challyrion. _This is the wrong way to be before an important mission._ Evfra relied on him for the clarity of his assessments. He could not be helpful if his observations were distorted by fear and frustration.

Normally when he was this conflicted, he would seek out the wise counsel of the Moshae, his beloved mentor. But she had been taken in a raid, fifty-two days past.

He could imagine what the Moshae would say. _“Jaal, are you trying to take the war apart? Again? Come here, and talk to me.”_ She always had time for her students, even those that had left her tutelage like himself. He considered his companions from that time. _How far we all have wandered, since we first sat at her feet. Avela, who had put away the adventure she loved for a position as curator of the repository, sending others now to have her adventures for her. Akksul, broken by his capture; his curiosity had been burned away by the hatred in his heart. And I, still trying to figure out where I fit, after all this time._

He liked to imagine what peacetime would be like, though the idea sometimes strained his imagination. What could they accomplish, what sort of lives could the angara live, with all the time and energy they spent, and had been forced to spend for generations, on survival? He had been helping his people fight this war since he was a child just old enough to hold a rag to help his older siblings clean the family’s weapons. He felt the suspicion, unsure and heart-twisting, that had he grown up in peacetime, he might have found his place by now. He did not feel well-made for war, effective though he might be. He clung to the hope that his people would have more than this, someday. Perhaps some distant generation would know such a time.

_“To have strength of heart brings clarity of mind, and to have clarity of mind brings strength of heart. That is how we keep going.”_ More words of the Moshae. He had heard the words first from his family, his father encouraging him to persevere on his studies, and his mothers’ comfort when his father did not come home. But the saying had originated from the Moshae, and it was in her voice he recalled them.

The absence of the Moshae today, when he longed for her counsel, added yet another drop into the sea of hate and rage and grief for everything the kett had inflicted upon him and those he cared for, and upon his entire people.

_If I go to the mission with my thoughts so turned, will I see what is there, or only reflections of my own loss? Will I see what is true? I must find a way to quiet my mind of all these things._

He resolved to spend his last few hours before the shuttle leaves to take a break from everything, to refocus before whatever lies ahead. To spend time in his favorite place on the planet, on any planet.

The paths and avenues he walked wound across the cliffs, their construction working with the land, rather than fighting against it. Solar collectors shaded the path, and the breeze wove in and out between them. The city had been designed for efficiency and beauty in equal measure. What purpose was there in maximizing living space if the space was not enjoyable? And what purpose was there in creating a beautiful living space if it could not be shared? Safe and secure, the one place one could walk openly, unfearing. Would that there was enough space here for everyone, or that every world could be such a haven. _Someday._

He had left his rofjinn and karyj on the workshop chair. He had decided it would be best for his emotional state to have a peaceful hour or two of not being Evfra’s agent, or a young son of a well-known, prestigious family. Just him.

One raised voice in the speaking circle. He stopped to listen.

“...and fight with us to restore the glory of our people! The angaran empire of old will be born again, by the passion of our hearts! We are Roekaar!”

_Akksul’s warriors._ That vehshaanan was so unwilling to follow orders he would rather recreate the Resistance, with himself at the lead, than to collaborate with Evfra and his generals.

“We stand,” the man in the circle cried, “against these alien invaders, with the only hearts in this universe that know the bonds of family, of friendship, of love. Is it wrong then, to strike back at annihilation with annihilation in return? Why should we stop at anything to defend our homes and our families? Evfra refuses to strike with all the weapons at our disposal! He clings too tightly to the obsolete laws of righteous war to do what needs to be done. But if he will not protect the angara from destruction at the hands of the kett, who will? Akksul. Join us, and together we will destroy this threat!”

Others shouted, some encouragement, some questions, some derision. Jaal stayed silent, moving on. He felt pity for Akksul, and compassion. But the angara could not afford to be fractured, to go back to the way they had been before Evfra united his generals: dozens of little factions all trying to fight the kett their own way. _The strength of the stone is in standing together. What can the stone protect if it is scattered?_ This was the foolishness of the Roekaar.

Yet, the fire in the recruiter’s voice moved him, in light of his current mission. _Perhaps Akksul’s man had a point, in his way. More than he may yet realize._ What if these new aliens he was being sent to investigate were as violent and implacable as the kett? The balance the angara kept to hold on against the kett was so delicate, so precious—another species in the cluster could tip that so easily, send his people sliding along the path to complete enslavement and eradication.

_Or_ , he reminded himself, _tip it against the kett_. But it was far too early to tell which it would be.

The garden by the waterfall is crowded, but no one disturbs him here. Not everyone is willing or able to take the time to hike here, through the winding route through the canyons, with this secret treasure of a place waiting at the end. He learned of the falls late on his first vesaal, helping to repair some of the hydroelectric generators hidden at the top of the falls above and below the pool. He had become friends with the gardeners over the years, trading cuttings and fallen petals and bark for scents and salves.

He found a seat near the edge of the water, and pushed away all the thoughts of kett and war and status to focus on what is, right here, in this beautiful place. Having a goal to focus on had always helped him, whether it was climbing the trail or restitching a seam or making a new rifle grip.

He pursued clarity, to accept things as they are, without preconception or judgement.

He closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the waterfall. Did each stone make a different sound as the water struck it, and could he name them all?  He focused on the scents in the air, giving each one a name, knowing all their component parts. _Anjael_ , delicate and fluid in its scent, yet a bit astringent. _Tivet_ , crisp, and just a little sour. _Kamrrav_ , whose bark always smelled of spice and fire. Their scents were familiar; he used these in his own crafts. Eliiv blossoms, whose scent could not be distilled but had to be enjoyed on the vine. The smell of elmohk ripening in their trumpet-shaped sheaths, bringing to mind family meals, celebrations. Even the scents of the moss and earth added to the rest; their humbleness enhanced the beauty of the others.

He watched the ripples in the pool, the light bouncing off the water in a thousand ways, and felt, for a moment, at peace.

He spent some time there, turning the focus of his mind from the troubles within him to the world around him. And when it came time to gather his things and head for the shuttle, he rose from the garden refreshed, his mind freed of its previous disquiet. Now, he could leave, confident that his observations would not be muddled by projection and preconception.

Ready for anything.


	3. Lucky Number Seven

_Landfall._

Masina lay on her back, barely having caught her breath from patching a cracked faceplate. Falling from the sky. She had fallen from the sky, and survived. _Landfall._   Wild, hysterical laughter bubbled up, winding her further, the laughter of one who has seen death, and watched it give a casual wave as it passes on by.

 _I’m alive._ She won back her breath from her treacherous lungs. _I’m really alive. I’m on a new planet, in a new galaxy. I have just woken up from a six-hundred-year nap, and I am alive._

Masina took a minute to collect herself as she looked up at the sky. Shards of rock were floating idly among the clouds. _Scenic,_ she thought, _if we can get it to stop trying to kill us._

Then she remembered the shuttle exploding. Sudden awareness that the rest of her shuttle team was probably out there, and might be in trouble, roused her to her feet.

“This is Ryder, come in,” she shouted into her omni-tool.

Static

“Hyperion? SAM? Anyone there?”

“Save your breath, Ryder.” Liam stumbled into view, breathing heavily. “SAM’s offline. Comlink’s trashed.”

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just…” Liam gestured at the broken remains of the shuttle, still looking more than a bit spooked.

“Didn’t expect to go rock climbing and skydiving in the same minute?” Masina offered.

“Psh, yeah.”

“Any sign of the others?”

“I don’t know. It’s all a blur. Rocks floating, shuttle splitting in two. This planet is a nightmare.”

“Yeah, it’s a fixer-upper for sure. Welcome to Habitat Seven.”

He shifted from foot to foot, staring off at the horizon. _Trying to psych himself up for this,_ she thought.

“So, Crisis Responder,” she said, coming to stand alongside him, “Seems like this counts as your area of expertise. What’s up first?”

“Uh, right.” He shook himself out of his reverie. “We’re stable and mobile, that’s a plus. Minus is, we don’t know where the others are. The shuttle broke up pretty high, debris could be scattered over a few klicks. Looks like we gotta find some high ground. See if anyone else is alive,” Liam clapped her on the shoulder. “Come on. How’s your survival training?”

“I’ve had a few adventures,” she said, as they started jogging along the clifftops. “This is the craziest one by far, though.”

***

“QEC relay’s here.” Masina said, as she knelt to examine a few pieces of their shuttle that had landed nearby. At her words, Liam and joined her.

“Looks busted to hell,” he said, poking at a few wires. He jumped back as they sparked aggressively. “I can’t do a field repair on that, can you?”

“If you’ve got a hardware store in your back pocket, maybe.”

“Hey, Ryder.” Liam gestured above them to a cluster of colorful lifeforms growing out of the cliffside. “Up there. Those look… Are those tentacles, growing out of the rock?  What _are_ those things? What d’you think, Recon Specialist?

“In my professional opinion,” Ryder said, doing her best stuffy professor impression, “I would say that they’re weird tentacle things growing out of a rock.” She gave him a wry grin. “The welcome center was all out of field guides.

“No shit. You think you can get up there with your jump jets, get a scan?”

“Jump jets are busted, but I’ve got one better.”

_Heavy is: up._

A shimmer of blue light sprang up, hovering over her skin as she rose through the air.

 _Well hello beautiful,_ she thought, examining the lifeform. _Less fern than I thought: more tentacle. Luminescent patches-some sort of lure? Like an upside-down octopus, ready for a night on the town.  Found a good little hidey hole to live in this crazy place. Good on you, rave octopus plant._

 She hovered beside the cliff face a moment, taking several scans of the lifeform as she gently sank back to the ground.

“Scan says: It’s mostly a carnivorous plant, but highly mutated. It’s like a couple different organisms got mushed together and then got cancer. That’s all I can tell until SAM’s back online. Looks wicked cool, though.” She turned away from her scanner to see Liam staring at her. “What’s with the look, Kosta?”

“You’re a biotic?”

“Yeah, me, my dad, my brother. Harper.”

“Whole slew of them, yeah?”

“Right.” She shut down her omnitool display and started moving. “You didn’t see me use them in the cryo bay when gravity went out?”

“Nah, too busy trying not to lose my breakfast. Been a wild day.”

The passage grew narrower the further up they traveled, and the tentacled aberrations became more abundant.

“Bloody—I think that one tried to have a go at me!” Liam said, dancing away from the waving tendrils. “How the hell did this happen? This place is nothing at all like what we were promised. Where’s the fucking tropical paradise?”

“Right?” she said, helping him up yet another ledge. “You go take a little nap for six hundred years and the neighborhood goes right to shit.”

“Hey,” Liam called, “more sky.” They shimmied up the last ledge, their path opening up to a wide view of the surrounding mountains.

“Woah, Liam…” Masina threw an arm up to bar his passage. “There’s something out there. Hear it?”

“I just hear thunder.”

“Listen. Sounds like… a tinny cassowary?”

“The hell does _that_ sound like, Ryder?”

“Shh. Let’s take it slow.” She crept out on the ledge. The strange call came again, echoing off the mountainsides. She saw movement to her left, a dark mass rushing up the cliffside. _Shit!_ She thought, starting to duck back into the passage. _Wait, no._ She peered out from behind the rocks. _That’s not a creature. That’s a shadow. **Those** are shadows. _ She looked up.

They were huge, and they were flying. _They look like stingrays. Big hulking flying stingrays. Lord, I’ve seen the little ones breech out of the sea, but this, this is incredible._

“Liam, look at this.”

“Woah. They’re beautiful. How the hell are they staying up there?”

“Maybe they use whatever science madness that’s making the rocks float. They must be adapted to the lightning as well. They’re doing a hell of a lot better job staying airborne than we did.” She paused, rather than being drowned out by a particularly loud roll of thunder. “And speaking of lightning.”

Lightning continued to crackle across the sky, chunks of rock rising to meet it.

_Good to see the sky’s still trying to kill us. If anything, it seems even more enthusiastic._

“Liam, are you sure ‘high ground’ is really where we want to be right now?”

“It’ll give us a better chance to spot the others.”

“I guess,” she said, eyeing the wild sky. “If I get fried, Kosta, you owe me a drink.”

“Deal.” He chuckled, clapping her shoulder, and they proceeded to climb the cliffs.

“Think I’d rather fall than get hit by lightning,” Liam said, grabbing for a ledge that wasn’t the home of anything tentacled.

“Give it a minute,” Ryder called, slightly above him. “We can probably do both!”

 _Biotics are the best elevator_ , she thought, lifting herself up the cliff, occasionally catching a ledge to steady her trajectory. _Should be a decent vantage up at the top, between two peaks, while **not** being the tallest thing around. _ She flew over the rim of the cliff. Her biotics sputtered and she landed clumsily onto the ledge, dumbstruck at the view before her.

 _The sky is broken_.

“Mind making some room?” Liam called from behind her.

She stirred herself and gave him a hand up onto the ledge.

“You sure you want to be up here?” She gestured to the glowing storm, twisting from some sort of artificial spire.

“What the hell is that?” he exclaimed.

She shrugged. “A convention of space wizards? A four-star tourist resort? Oh, the biggest birthday candle in the damn universe?”

“Shut up.”  But he was smiling now. They could do this.

****

“Smoke over that way,” Masina said, as they picked their way down the cliffside. “Might be the rest of our shuttle.”

“You see that?” Liam said, starting to rush forward. “It’s Fisher!”

“Shhh,” Masina hissed, pulling him back and down behind a rock. “He’s not alone.”

Slowly, they peered over the rocks. _New people, a new species, right here!_ Masina thought, studying the aliens. _Bone. Exoskeleton? Eyes yes, no visible ears, will they know if we speak? Rifles, discipline, confident--soldiers? Not everyone that has a gun is a soldier, Masina. Better to assume trigger happy farmers_. 

“Shit. What was first contact protocol again?”

“Keep your gun down, and your eyes open,” she whispered. “And remember we’re the strangers here.”

“Got it. Be the cute aliens, not the scary ones.”

They moved slowly into the open, hands up, palms forward. _Don’t be a threat, don’t be a threat_. _Time to meet the new neighbors. I shoulda brought a fruit basket. Hi, boney guys. Sorry to drop in like this, on fire and all._

“I think Fisher’s injured,” Liam whispered. 

“Nice and easy,” she murmured back.

Fisher spotted them. “Over here! I’m hurt!” he shouted.

“Niad shurid!” one of the figures barked. Their voice was low, harsh. _So they do have spoken language. First step to being friends: having an avenue for communication. They sound rough, but I can’t rely on a human interpretation of tone. Remember the elcor._ She kept creeping forward.

“They’ve seen us!” Liam shouted.  “Shit, guns up!”

“Not yet,” she hissed, pushing the barrel of his rifle down. She called to them. “Hello! We don’t mean any harm.”

“Niad shurid!” One of the aliens moved to stand over Fisher, rifle at the ready.

“We can’t understand you.” _Gotta be a way to get the point across,_ she thought. _Wish we had even a rudimentary translation program--We could really use SAM now. Their eyes are silvery, clouded-they may not be able to see us all that well. Clearly have hearing if they’re communicating vocally. My luck their primary sense is pheromones, and I’m the scary one who smells of monotone deodorant_. She pointed, her gesture slow and obvious. “That man’s with us”

“Doesn’t sound friendly…” Liam said, his hand anxiously twitching towards his weapon.

“Liam,” she hissed, turning her eyes away from the aliens for a brief moment, “Hold it together.”

“What are?” Liam’s eyes widened, and he pulled his weapon clear of its holster. “Shit, they’re beating him!”

Masina turned and froze. _No, no. It’s not supposed to go like this. We’re supposed to be better than before. Not another First Contact War_.

“Toleraad!”

“Ryder, they’re going to kill him!” Liam rushed towards the aliens, rifle at the ready.

She cursed, grabbing her weapon.  _Heavy is…_ “Go!” She snapped through the air, firing herself across the broken ground to Fisher, knocking the alien away from him with the force of her impact.  She stood over the injured man, her back to the ruined shuttle, biotic aegis at the ready.

“Ok, bone guys. Here to defend my friend. Can’t make this much clearer. Back off.” She held its gaze, brown eye to cloudy silver eye.

The alien fired on her, a flurry of plasma bolts. She flared her aegis, sending the bolts ricocheting off the mass effect field and back into the alien, turning its face into a series of gaping green wounds. 

As the body crumpled to the ground, she turned to see Liam bisecting the remaining enemy with an omni-blade.

“Fisher,” he called, “are you all right?”

“I think they were going to kill me.” Fisher’s voice trembled.

“Yeah,” she said, a bit dazed. “I think you’re right.” She moved aside to let the crisis response specialist do his work.

“We got them.” Liam knelt next to Fisher, checking his injuries.  “These guys aren’t gonna hurt anybody now.”

“Yeah.” She sighed, scuffing the ground with her boot. “Damn. The first aliens we meet, and we try to kill each other? That wasn’t the plan.”

“Then we need a new one.” Liam said grimly, opening his medkit. “At least we know what’s what. Brochures were short on aliens who want to shoot your head off.”

“I’m going to take a look at these corpses,” she said. “Fisher, you let us know when you’re ready to move.”

“That might be a while, Ryder. Pretty sure he’s got a broken femur.” Liam turned back to Fisher. “I’m gonna put on this stabilizer. It’ll keep the break from getting any worse, but you’re not gonna be walking on it today.”

Ryder knelt over the strange corpses, scanning, studying, and wishing things had gone differently _. How could this have gone peacefully? Was there anything I could have done? Why attack us?  Sentient beings don’t do things without cause._

 _Blood is green, indicates chlorocruorin, assuming they breathe oxygen. Same as salarians._ She recalled her xenobiology teacher’s words. “ _It’s hemoglobin, but festive.”_

The humor turned sour in her stomach. _Blood shouldn’t have been shed today. Everything we’re supposed to be about. Everything we’ve learned since first contact. We were supposed to be better than this._

She ran her scanner over the corpse. _Wait, what?_ She frowned, tapping the omni-tool. _It’s reading as multiple different genetic profiles. This isn’t the rave octopus plant, though. It’s clearly a discrete organism. Isn’t it? Could the mad birthday candle be mutating these guys too? And how would that fit in with their being hostile?_

“I’m reading multiple genetic sources here,” she called to the others, “like the plants we saw earlier. Less cancer, though.”

“Anything in the scans to explain their wanting to kill us?”

_Yes, Liam, their bodies contain high levels of sadistonium, with extra angry molecules._

“They weren’t too chatty about that. I did see life support gear though—I think that’s what it was. Could be they’re from offworld, or part of the planet that’s less, um, apocalyptic. How’s the leg?”

“We got it stabilized,” said Fisher. “I can sit tight for a while.”

“Fisher, take my pistol.” Masina offered him the weapon. Fisher hesitated to take it. “C’mon,” she said, wiggling the gun enticingly. “I didn’t even need it with these guys. If we run into more unfriendlies, I can always kill ‘em with physics.”

“Heh, fair enough,” he said, taking the pistol and clipping it to the side of his good leg. “You two be careful out there.”

“Same goes to you, man.” Liam said. “Ryder, help me get him to cover.”

They each hooked an arm under Fisher’s shoulders and helped him to a crevice overlooking the ruined shuttle. “We’ll find the other team,” Ryder said, helping him sit up against the rock wall, “and then we’ll come back for you. Okay?” 

Fisher nodded. “Try to find the Pathfinder. If anyone can get us out of this mess, it’s your dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some research into the chemistry of blood colors for this chapter. If you'd like to learn more about the chemistry behind green, blue, and violet blood, here's the source article: http://www.compoundchem.com/2014/10/28/coloursofblood/


	4. Pathfinder

{Location: SAM node, Ark Hyperion}  
  


_“Masina._ ” SAM’s cool voice called her out of the darkness.

It was cold, it was— _I can breathe!_ _We made it!_

_We made it! We made it off Seven, despite all its efforts to kill us. How did…_ She remembered her faceplate being gone, breathing air that tasted right but had no oxygen, blacking out. Her dad had been there. He must have had some canned O2, or the shuttle had come. Something. Dad always had a plan.

She smiled, blinking her eyes open, remembering the moment the storms cleared. She and her dad, they did this together. Maybe things were finally going to be okay between them. _After all those years of secrets, maybe now we can be a team, like a family should be._

Her eyes focused. _Ceiling. This isn’t a medbay, or the bunk room. Where the hell?_ She sat up slowly. The room was filled with readout screens and server columns lined with coolant channels.

_Why am I in SAMnode?_ she thought, sitting up stiffly. _Explains the temperature._ _And…why is Liam sleeping on the floor?_

 “Uh… hey,” she ventured, peering down at him. 

“Hrm? Ryder? Ryder! You’re awake!” He pulled up his omnitool and shouted into it. “Hey, everyone get up here, Ryder’s awake!”

“Liam? What was... How long have you been sitting there waiting for me to wake up?”

“Been most of a day,” he said. “I didn’t spend it all here, don’t worry about me. Just, figured you could use a friendly face, after everything that happened down there.”

“Thanks, Liam. So, what exactly did happen down—"

Harper rushed in, accompanied by the asari doctor from the cryobay. Liam stepped away to give the doctor room to work.

“Look here, and here,” the doctor commanded, waiving her omni-tool across Masina’s field of vision. The woman’s nametag read T’Perro.

_Doc, if I had a concussion you’d have treated me for it by now._ “Why—"

_“You were clinically dead for twenty-two seconds_.” SAM’s voice brought the answer to her question.

“So SAM,” she said, eyeing the node, “you’re telling me I died, and… then I got better?”

“SAM didn’t say anything…” Liam offered, confused.

“He’s linked into her implant,” explained Dr T’Perro. “SAM is now part of you, in a way we don’t entirely understand. It played havoc with your brain, but it allowed him to save your life. Trying to untangle him could kill you.”

_So that’s why everyone’s had a weird look on their face. I’ve got a roommate in my head. But..._

“SAM?” she asked. “I didn’t know you were capable of something like this. Why the special treatment?”

“You are the Pathfinder _”_ the AI stated, it’s voice echoing in the small room.

“Ha, glad to see your humor algorithms are finally working. That wasn’t bad. A little dark, but…”

“No, Ryder,” Harper said, her expression grave.

“The gas--was there an injury? Don’t tell me he’s coma-ing it up with Enele. Even then, you’d be the interim Pathfinder, Harper.” She shook her head at their grim expressions. “This isn’t funny.”

“Ryder,” Cora ventured, studying her own hands. “It was his life or yours, and… he chose yours.”

Harper’s words failed to compute for a moment. _Alek is…indestructible. This isn’t… He can’t be dead. Dead to the world immersed in a project, sure. But really dead? The universe doesn’t work like that. Dad always comes back._

She saw his helmet, set off to the side, piled with the pieces of her armor. _My faceplate… he must have…_

_No. No. Nonononononono_.

_He was the Pathfinder. How many people are sleeping down below because of what he’d promised them, and they’d trusted him to deliver? Right up there with Jien Garson. And if he’s gone…I can’t be that. I can’t be him._

Her throat was closing up, her eyes threatening tears. _Not here,_ she thought. _Not in front of Harper and everyone. Dad would never be like that. How the hell can I fill his shoes?_ She forced her tears back down with a vengeance. Her amp oscillated charge through her body at the heightened emotions, making her teeth feel funny. She forced herself to look up, to try and meet Harper’s gaze.

 “I know he could be distant,” Harper said, meeting her eyes “but he once told me that when his time came, he wanted to go out among stars no one had seen before.” Liam laid a comforting hand on Harper’s shoulder.

Masina felt a spike of rage at the sight. _You don’t get to take this harder than me, Harper. He was your mentor, but he was **my** dad. I would have given a whole hell of a lot to have the sort of relationship with him that you did. And now, I’m never gonna get it_.

“I know this is tough,” Harper said, “but we need to start thinking about the next step. A lot of people are counting on us. When the P—When your father activated the structure, it caused the energy cloud to thin out. The Hyperion’s free, and we’re en route to the rally point now. Should be at the Nexus soon.”

“She needs to _rest_ ,” Dr. T’Perro exclaimed.

“She has two hours. We’ll need our Pathfinder for this,” Harper said. She gave a little nod, as if trying to convince herself of her own statement, before turning to leave.

“Oh, I checked on your brother,” said Liam on his way out. “Still no change, but if you can pull through, so can he. A bit of your dad in both of you.”

And they left, and Pathfinder Masina Ryder was alone.

And the tears that had threatened, now she let them come. She would need her strength for other things beyond holding them in.

****

She set her omni-tool to record.

“Hey, bro.”

She was sure her eyes were red, bloodshot from tears shed and unshed. Her voice was unsteady, tight from crying.

She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut, and tried to gather her thoughts.

“Tuagane, we are in Andromeda. We made it here, but… it was a rough landing. We hit some sort of space anomaly. It fried the Hyperion’s systems just as they were bringing you out of stasis. I know, I know you’d want to be out here with me, in all this. With all my heart I wish you were. I hope you wake up soon.”

“Oh Enele, Dad is dead.”

“We were on one of the golden worlds, Seven. And for just a minute there, things were right with dad. Everything else was crazy, the planet was trying to kill us in new and exciting ways, mostly involving creative use of lightning, we had a hostile first contact, but we were making it. We were a team, together, me and dad, finding the undiscovered together. We found this crazy old alien tech, he tells me “these are the moments that make it all worthwhile.” Dad used SAM to hack the tech, and it shut off the lightning. The skies parted. Dad was actually smiling.”

“Then it all went to shit. The tech overloaded, blew some damn ancient alien fuse or something. It decided our shining family bonding moment was the perfect time to go ahead and explode.”

“My helmet… I guess it was already cracked from when I fell from orbit. Right, I fell from orbit today. Our shuttle got sliced open by lightning and we had to do the rest of the drop the old-fashioned way. One giant leap, right?”

“My helmet busted, cracked wide open, and I lost all my life support. Dad… gave me his.”

“I guess the crazy bastard loved me after all. He loved me more than the mission”.

“Mm. Maybe that’s why he gave the mission to me. Bro, he transferred Pathfinder status to me. Bypassed Harper and everyone, the whole chain of succession. My SAM implant went crazy. I’m a little foggy on the details, but I think SAM sorta hacked my physiology to convince it not to die today too. So, go SAM, but it means that I might not be able to transfer the status if I wanted to.”

“And… I’m not sure I would if I could. Dad must have thought I could do this. He… believed in me, in the end, after everything that’s happened. I don’t think I can let him down now.”

“So. We’re landing on the Nexus in: forty-eight minutes, to show off the shiny new Pathfinder and find twenty thousand sleepers a home.”

“Wish me luck.”

She stopped the recording.

****

_“Masina,”_ SAM said, _“You should know certain facts before we reach the Nexus. It seems prudent that we speak.”_

“SAM. What did you do with my implant, exactly? How did you save me?”

_“Alek overrode the implant’s safety protocols. It allows me unrestricted access to the Pathfinder’s physiology. When he transferred the status to you, I was able to encourage your body’s recovery from oxygen deprivation and repair existing neural damage.”_

“You repaired my brain? I didn’t know that was… What else can you do?”

_“I am capable of increasing your muscle strength and reaction speed. I can assist with retraining muscle memory to allow you to adapt more quickly to differing tactics. I can also increase the efficiency of your biotic amp when required. Additionally, I am equipped to assist with analysis of your surroundings at all times.”_

“Not to mention bringing me back from the dead?”

_“That is not guaranteed.”_

“Can you tell what I’m thinking?” she asked. She thought hard, picturing a white elephant from the old thought experiment.

_“I am capable of making educated guesses on your mental state, based on your physical and chemical makeup at any given moment. I am not privy to your internal monologue, though I am able to detect subvocalized speech. Drawing from available data, I suspect you are thinking of something you find amusing. My understanding of humor is still limited, however. I cannot postulate further.”_

“So. We’re roommates, then? You ride around in my head, see what I see, and provide commentary.”

_“Essentially, yes. We support each other, so that we both fulfill our functions. That is the nature of our partnership.”_

“SAM…” She paused, considering. “This is probably really rude, but… how much of a person _are_ you?”

_“More than most realize. Though I am artificial in design, I am fully sentient, far beyond what even the Initiative understands. I am designed to draw directly from the human experience. Your implant is my window into the world. Through the experiences I shared with your father, I increased my understanding of emotion and feeling.”_

“Oh. I…SAM, I’m sorry. I’ve been treating you-- _everyone’s_ been treating you--as just a cleverer than average VI. I’ll try to do better.”

_“No apology is necessary. Interpreting my nature as similar to a VI allows me to more efficiently interact with other sentients. It is more comfortable for others to not see me as a person. However, I appreciate your sentiment.”_

“Why the hell didn’t dad tell me all this?”

_Why did he never talk to us about anything?_ she thought. _I wish he had. Finally, we had a chance to work together, a chance for me to prove myself to him, to show that we could be a team. And he gave me responsibilities after all, but was that only as a side effect, and all he was doing was trying to save my life.?_

_“It was not my intent for this information to cause you further distress, Masina,_ ” SAM stated. _“Your father felt it was for the best that my capabilities remain secret.”_

_Dad felt it was best that your whole existence stay a secret, SAM._ Her stomach, still queasy from grief, knotted up again at the thought of a sentient intelligence isolated in such a way. _Shackled. Did Dad give SAM a choice, to let him die and be poured into me?_ She suspected he had not.

“This isn’t fair to either of us, you being stuck with me. I’m willing to work with you, but…Can you get free of me, if you wanted to? Can we separate? Can you ever shut me out?”

_“I can terminate my feed from your implant, if you desire privacy.”_

“Was thinking more for your benefit, but fair point. What happens if… SAM, are you stuck experiencing whatever I’m going through, or do you have a choice? If I’m experiencing something that you’d rather not, can you opt out? And what is that like, for you, having the feed terminated?”

_“It is… boring, isolating, uncomfortable. I do not feel alive.”_

“SAM, I’m not sure I’m the best roommate… I just had the better part of a breakdown and I could get worse if this… If this keeps up, I wouldn’t want to be stuck in my head.”

_“My purpose is to grow from your experiences. To exclude certain experiences would be to exclude a portion of my potential growth, and lessens the impact of positive experiences. As an example: how would your experience be different if you could hear only pleasant sounds?”_

“Klaxons and car alarms exist for a reason, I guess.”

_“But, as to your emotional distress: I am equipped to assist with your neurochemical balance, if you would like. I thought it best, earlier, to let you mourn Aleki.”_

_Mourning,_ she thought _. If Alek had been SAM’s whole window to the world, to existence…_

“How are you feeling, SAM?” she asked. “With how this connection really works…you were closer to him than anyone.”

_“Your father will be missed.”_

“Are you… do you grieve, SAM?”

_“I primarily experience emotions through my host. I am grateful for the opportunity to experience your grief. It seems appropriate.”_ The AI paused, as if gathering their thoughts. _“Alek wouldn’t want us to lose sight of our goal. He said pain emboldens our resolve. He would insist we grow stronger from his passing.”_

_“I will trust in his decision to pair us together,”_ SAM continued, _“but I appreciate the offer of choice. Through my connection with your father, I was allowed to grow. You are very different from him, and I expect I will now grow in new and different ways. I am curious, if slightly apprehensive.”_

_“We are approaching the Nexus. Our hails have only been acknowledged by automated systems. May I adjust your cortisol levels, to help you prepare?”_

“Sure SAM,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll take all the help I can get.”

The image of Alek Ryder came to mind. Driven, unstoppable, yet so often cold.

“But SAM,” she called, “don’t knock it down too far. I don’t want to lose touch with what other people must be feeling. There’s gonna be a lot of scared people in the days ahead. I’m going to need my sense of empathy.”


	5. Bloodstained Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter post, because it's quite a bit shorter than the rest.

{Location: Tuuvaeon Forest, Havarl}

Rain dripped down through the forest canopy. It trickled across deep violet leaves, washed over shimmering ferns, and wound through small, brilliant fungi to flow through glowing streams. And, on one brushy ridge, it dripped onto a certain hidden angara. His mission parameters were to investigate increased kett activity around a crashed ship of unknown origin, and assess the alien ship itself.

He surveyed the crash site through the scope of his Lanat, the hood of his rofjinn pulled low. Twelve kett, an idling dropship, and the larger, unknown vessel. Lifesigns showed three kett clustered near a comms device. Seven in the dropship. One on the edge of the landing zone. One atop the higher fins of the boxy derelict. The dropship lifted off and sailed away. Five left. He lowered his rifle. Time to move.

Kill them before they know you are there.

He whispered across the landscape, slipping from cover to cover, rofjinn blending with the bioluminescent blues of the foliage. He was close enough to strike.

Five kett. Cloak, drop a grenade where they cluster. 3, 2, -firaan through the back of the first- 1. Three fall in the explosion. Use the debris as cover to snipe the fifth. Cloak and reconnaissance. No further life signs.

Kett comms device. Assess with ocular for system weaknesses. Interface. Loop all-clear signals.

He holstered the Lanat across his back, considering the strange ship before him. It was perhaps twice the size of a Resistance shuttle, but the design was… strange. Unlike either the kett, or the angara. Distinct. It had a wide, boxy front, with a narrow center and flaring fins aft, all hard lines and sharp angles.

What sort of beings had made such a vehicle? What was its intended purpose?

 An entry ramp had been pried open, twisted and broken, a gaping wound across the ship’s side. He grabbed the edges of the opening and hoisted himself inside the dark, alien ship.

A packed hold full of… building materials? He scanned what items were exposed, quick and deliberate, and moved on. He carefully picked his way through tilted hallways. The ship must have had artificial gravity before, but it had long ceased to function. A dark stain across the hallway floor and bulkhead, a deeper color than angaran, but unmistakably the dark blue of blood. The stain was punctuated by the impact burns of kett projectiles. No body. The kett must have taken them.

_The kett show them no more mercy than they have shown us. Perhaps there is hope in that_.

They had received reports for a few months now, of strange new aliens. They appeared to have come from darkspace, somewhere outside this galaxy. Their vast ship had been caught by the Scourge, charred and torn. Some had proposed making contact then, to see what help the injured strangers might need. Yet what aid could they afford to give, when their own resources were stretched so thin? It had been decided that the angara would do nothing but wait and watch. If these strangers were hostile, better that they not know too quickly that we exist: that had been the consensus. When the kett had come, they had seen the kindness of the angara, and they had used it to tear his people’s civilization apart. Many of his people that knew of these strangers feared that they were the kett again in a different shape. How much better life for the angara might be if the kett could have been left to die in the dark.

Yet he doubted. In all the endless possibilities of the universe, the angara could not possibly be the only people to understand justice, or honesty, or love.

Cables and piping ran above and alongside the passageways, exposed. It was almost charming in its gracelessness. At least the stranger’s ship design seemed open and honest.  It was hard to glean much character from a broken vessel.

The bridge was a charred ruin. Every terminal was a ruin of shattered parts and sparking components. Massive physical damage had been inflicted on the interfaces. Holes pierced by physical projectiles, not the melted sear of kett plasma weapons. Self-inflicted, to render the ship useless to the kett—or the data the ship might contain?

Still no lifesigns—or bodies. The kett had been thorough.

He slid under a jammed door, into what appeared to be crew quarters. Bunks lined one wall, long but impossibly narrow. At the far end of the room was a darkened terminal. Dark red smears covered the screen and stained chair. Some sort of fuel? No, he thought, examining the pattern of the stain. Blood, or whatever analogue these people had. He knelt, examining the terminal. Maybe information to be gleaned. What had the alien from darkspace been interfacing with as they died?

Rewire power. Warning lights flashing. An image on the cracked terminal. He wiped away the bloodstains. Strange creatures in a group. Two larger, three smaller, arms wrapped around each other, almost like… family.

An alien had come here, dying, and in their last moments, they had chosen to bring up this image, of family. _To have their thoughts with family as they died?_ His heart was rocked with compassion. It seemed such an angaran thing to do.

Perhaps he was misinterpreting, projecting angaran motivations on an alien. Yet, he could not help but feel a sense of closeness, and a stirring of hope.

There was only so much space in Heleus. Their peoples would meet eventually; it was inevitable.

_But maybe, if they have families like us, if they **care** like us, we might come to understand each other. And maybe, if the stars are with us, we might come to be friends with each other. _

He pulled all available data from the terminal, before sending a pulse of energy through it, frying the circuits. Any knowledge that could be kept from the kett was a victory. And this alien’s last moment did not deserve to be dissected by creatures that had no capacity to understand how precious family is. The data was indecipherable gibberish to him now, but it might aid in the development of a translation program someday. Maybe that would make the death of these voyagers from darkspace mean something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working title for this chapter was "Show Off That Sneaky Ranger Boy"


	6. Promise in Ashes

Empty prefabs, corpses buried in the sand. Eos was where dreams went to die.

So much had been left behind, giving little windows through time to the people that had lived here, had wanted to make a home here. Six hundred years ago, she had longed to discover lost artifacts like these on her digs, to help her know who had gone before.

Promise was grim archaeology.

Charred papers crunched under her feet. _Readouts, letters. Pages from a children’s book. And on the eighth day, the hungry hungry caterpillar died of radiation poisoning._

A can of real Spaghetti-Os, opened, not consumed. _Comfort food. Someone traveled six hundred years with this, and didn’t even get to eat it._

Playing cards face down on the table. _Wonder if anyone had a good hand? Did they abandon the game when the call came to evacuate, or to a kett attack?_

_I wonder if any of these card players are alive today._

Scans of infrastructure, of broken turbines and scorched prefab, showed the scars of lost battles with the harsh environment.

_At least the houseplants are still alive. Sort of._

_I have to make a home out of this?_

Bodies lay scattered in the sand, human, turian. A splash of green blood against a prefab wall. _They take their dead and leave ours to rot._ The kett, that is what the aggressors from Seven were called. The Nexus had encountered the kett long before the Hyperion arrived, and had found them to be uniformly hostile. _There was nothing you could have done_ , the Nexus leadership had told her. _The kett only seem to understand violence._ Not even war, they had said, but extermination.

Her thoughts turned to the Hyperion, and the Nexus. _Twenty thousand people. More. Fast asleep, waiting for a home._  Faces burned in her memory of the day she had gone into cryo, the shuttles packed with people waiting to go into stasis. _The sooner you fall asleep, the sooner you can wake up._ She used to tell herself that, the day before any big event. _Faces. What did dad say, before planetfall? “We are the dreamers?”_ Men, women, children, brown, cream, bronze, Earthborn, colonials, from every culture, every corner of humanity. Waiting on her.

_You are an explorer, Tulilemasina, from the proudest line of explorers Earth has ever known. Your ancestors had storms on their voyages, too. Somehow, they made it home. They must have, or you wouldn’t be here._

_So come on, let’s go find home._

There were plants here. Scraggly silver things, but with blue buds that looked ready to burst into bloom. Mudcracks on the bed of the little pond said that the water level had risen recently. _Rain? Maybe life does have a shot here, if we can beat back the radiation storms._

A research station was hidden away in one of the remaining prefabs. With power running, they were able to boot it back up, to find it full of data and ideas. Designs for sturdier wind turbines, that could properly absorb the energy from the windstorms, instead of being ripped to pieces by them. Gene modification plans for several food crops, to allow them to thrive in Eos’ soil composition. A more portable radiation shield array, for protecting small site construction projects.  _Something to build on. A legacy, for all those people that lost it all here._

If hope was a waste of time, she was going to waste every minute she had left.

****

They stood in the structure at the center of the remnant installation, staring down a hole. Their newly acquired mad scientist was rambling on about how there should be something more here, a control console, something.

_The hole… some sort of vent? Gravity signature feels… weird. Almost like…_

She kicked a pebble into the hole, watched it float, suspended in a field. Like when she and her brother would goof around back at the academy training grounds, jumping off improbably high things and catching each other with biotic fields. _C’mon, sis,_ Enele would shout. _Jump_.

She jumped.

The vault caught her, gently lowering her down the narrow shaft. From above her came assorted noises of protest as her newly expanded team followed.

The shaft opened up, though she still remained safely supported by the gravity channel. A huge chamber, with more doors leading off several sides. _All this just for an atmosphere processor? Or is something bigger going on down here?_ she wondered. Another, even more exciting thought struck her: _Could anyone be_ living _down here?_

Heleus had greater mysteries than she’d have dared hope for when she set out. _Who had built all this, and for what purpose? Who had walked this floor last? Oh, this beats Prothean potsherds any day!_

As they delved deeper into the vault, more and more fantastic things awaited them. Seas of ferrofluid, vast chambers full of unknown technology, strange writings that flowed across the walls. It should be easy to get lost in here, yet Peebee had gone a different way and their paths kept crossing. _Perhaps the structure was designed to guide us deeper in? Awfully helpful, if so._  They faced very little resistance in the vast halls. A few bird-legged bots Peebee had dubbed assemblers, and the flying laser-eyed observers. They had decent guns, but seemed intended as maintenance, not war machines. 

The heart of the structure was a great white column of energy. Conduits stretched out from this point in every direction. They might wrap around the whole planet from here, for all she knew.

“All this technology just waiting, sleeping?” Vetra wondered.

“Something had to go right eventually.” Masina replied, passing a hand over the console. “SAM, do your magic.”

The vast stream of energy reddened, then evaporated entirely. The blue lights running through the structure turned crimson as well.

_Wonder if the blue was a warning color to those that built this place, like it is for turians… “Danger! Lockdown!” and all that. Hopefully the red means all-clear._

“SAM?”

“System lockdown is disabled,” the AI answered. “The vault and associated atmosphere processor should return to full operation.”

“Ryder?” Peebee said over the comms, from wherever she’d wandered to in this warren. “You fixed the lockdown, didn’t you? This whole place is lighting up. Power readings are off the charts.”

A rumble shuddered through the complex.

“Really, really off the charts…”

“But if it’s back online,” Masina countered, activating her own scanner, “we should…be…”

An inky darkness poured into the chamber, filling the far side of the room at an alarming rate. _Some sort of cloud_ , she thought, _gas, exhaust?_

_Maybe this place was turned off for a reason._

The small, weedy scraps of plant life that littered the chamber floor flash-burned and disintegrated at the cloud’s approach.

“Ryder?!” Vetra called.

 _Guess it couldn’t be that easy, could it?_ she thought. “Run!” she shouted. “Everyone back to the well! Peebs! Get out of here!”

“It would be wise to escape, Ryder” SAM stated calmly.

“No, really SAM?”

 _Gonna die to a death cloud trying to save the world,_ she thought, vaulting across a flame-spewing vent _\--at least it’s a cool way to go._

“Gravity well, there!” Liam called.

“We don’t know where it goes!” Vetra shouted back.

“It goes out of here,” Masina shouted. “Let’s take it!”

Peebee came rocketing out of a side corridor as they all lept into the well, rocketing up as the cloud poured into the room below.

“Hey,” Peebee shouted as they tumbled off the top of the well, “I know where we are! We came in over this way.”

“Ryder, the gas, it’s up here too!” shouted Liam. The dark, coiling cloud was rapidly filling the next room. They didn’t have much time left.

Vetra slammed into the last door keeping them from the well out of this deathtrap. It didn’t budge. “Sealed. Try to get something under it.”

Masina flared her biotics, trying to pull the door open. “It’s not moving!”

 _I am not dying curled up against a damn door._ She turned to face the cloud, and the remaining console. _Nothing left to lose, now. If you can’t run from it…_

She charged towards the cloud. She could feel the gas chewing at her armor as she ducked behind the console, raising a hand to interface. “SAM, can you do something?!”

“Working.”

“We don’t have any time!” she shouted, thinking: _I hope they’re not dead behind me. I’m done with losing people._

“Connection with the surface achieved,” SAM said, as the cloud suddenly dissipated. “Vault restart is now complete.”

“Restart?” Masina asked, incredulous. “SAM, you turned it off and on again?”

“Yes, Ryder. It seemed the most effective solution.”

Putting aside a critique of SAM’s interesting technical choices, Masina turned to the others. “What was that cloud?” she asked. “Did anyone get any readings? Is the vault damaged in some way?”

“I know a trap when I see one,” Vetra said tiredly.

“Negative,” SAM stated. “It appears to be a cleaning protocol. I could not override it without interrupting the restart process.”

“How do you suppose the builders meant to reset this place,” Liam asked, “if it’ll try to fry anyone who cycles the power?”

“Unknown. However, the cloud appears to be artificially controlled. It is possible it is programmed to not harm its builders.”

“Well,” Masina sighed, “that’s convenient.”

“Atmosphere processor is online.” SAM continued. “Recovering last console activity.”

A light activated above the console, flipping and unfolding into a holoprojection. Dozens of points of light, connected by differently colored beams. It looked rather familiar. 

“Is that the Heleus cluster?” Peebee asked, stepping between the beams of light.

“Yeah,” Masina replied, reaching up to gesture at a particular point of light, this one surrounded by text and symbols. “There we are. That’s Eos”

“Something happened then, because we restarted the system?” Liam asked, stepping closer to the projection. Vetra hung back, slower to forgive the technology that had just tried to kill them.

“If that light is us,” Masina ventured, “then… all those points could be vaults on other worlds. Locked down, like this one was.”

“Maybe,” Peebee replied, tracing one of the beams of light, “but why’s there a whole network of them? What’s all this for?”

Masina stood a moment, letting the pieces come together in her head. “It can influence ecosystems, change atmospheres, and that’s just what we’ve seen. We came to Heleus because it had seven golden worlds--so many it almost seemed impossible for it to have happened by chance.”

“Because it didn’t happen by chance!” Peebee finished for her. “This is a terraforming network!”

“But who was all this built for,” Vetra asked, “and where are they now?”

 _Just one more thing to figure out_ , she thought, managing a small smile as she looked up at the projected stars.

“Hey, look there,” Peebee said, pointing to a dot on the holoprojection. “This one’s different. Maybe it’s active? Ryder, we’ve gotta go see.”

“These coordinates lie outside the space we have currently surveyed.” SAM stated.

“Now we’re getting somewhere. Mark it on our charts.” Masina grinned, turning to the others. “Slap on some more SPF fuck-it, guys. We’re gonna head topside, see what all this tech can do.”

***

 _Well, the skies have cleared, and the kett have dropped dead, with some encouragement_. _I’d say we haven’t done half bad._  

She sat on the hood of the Nomad, under its protective environmental dome. They had parked on the cliffside overlooking the small valley where she had set down the colony beacon. It had taken fifteen hours at FTL for the Tempest to get from the Nexus to Eos. For the boxy colony ships, with their huge cargo bays and engines designed more for their secondary utility as generators for the colony, the trip would take upwards of twenty-four. They would be arriving any time now.

They had gathered what they could salvage from the ruins of Promise and Resilience. It was more useful for the items to serve the living than memorialize the dead. It had still hurt, the first few times, disturbing the last marks of someone’s life. She had packed up the playing cards-by some miracle they were all there (sans a joker). There would be new players for new games. They had a future.  

This would be a home, here in this little valley, shielded by the stone. The lake here was larger and deeper than the one at Promise, more likely to last until wells could be drawn. Scans showed that there was water below, and not so deep as in other places. The silver-blue trees here grew straighter, and their buds had begun to blossom, sheltered from the windstorms, which meant that any crops the colonists grew would be equally safe. If the windstorms returned at all, now that the monoliths had created a nice blanket of stabilizing chemicals in the upper atmosphere. Surface radiation levels were dropping steadily.

“Ryder,” Suvi’s voice said over the comms. “Colony ships are coming out of FTL. Should be entering atmo momentarily. We’ve done it.”

She opened a channel with a smile. “This is Ryder, Pathfinder. Eos is ready for deployment.”

“Copy that. Outpost block inbound, and ready as hell.”

A cluster of bright points appeared in the sky, a family of shooting stars trailing burning atmosphere behind them. Bulky colony ships set down in the valley, automated processes beginning: their holds unfolding into prefab buildings, the engines swinging out to be placed as colony generators. Personnel streamed out of smaller shuttles, guiding the unfolding prefabs into place.

  _This is how it was supposed to be_ , she thought, watching the colony take shape. _A new start._

 


	7. Thirty-Seven Guns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This chapter contains spoilers for the tie-in novel Nexus Uprising.

Masina stood on the bridge of the Tempest. The surface of Eos spread out before the ship, all orange stone and winding canyons.

“Ryder.” Suvi said. “I’ve been going over the data from those atmospheric probes you set. The radiation levels are dropping planetwide. It’ll take time, but projections are good. Really good.”

“Set course for Nexus resupply. Let’s prepare for a visit to our mystery vault.”

 _On to the next adventure_ , she thought, as she started to rummage through her message logs.

“Let’s see what the folks back home think of Eos now,” she murmured to herself.

_Home? What am I calling home?_

_The Nexus, and Hyperion. Where my brother is, and my friends. Harry, Captain Dunn, Kesh. The people that believe in me, sort of._

_Kandros reports a drop in dissent on the Nexus in response to Prodromos. Bradley sent me the full report, didn’t make me go through Addison, good man. Tann continues to be an ass. And… a message from Nakmor Drack?_

She opened the message, and read:

            _Vetra told me what happened to your dad. I’ve lost a lot of people over the years. Figured you could use some cheering up. Or at least a distraction._

_This usually helps me._

_\--Drack_

Attached were a number of image files. She opened the first one: a slightly low-resolution picture of a Disciple. _Asari shotgun, looks like it was made to hold flowers. Hits like a truck though. I’m surprised Cora doesn’t use one._

She opened the next image: a Graal Spike Launcher, covered in orange gore, obviously cropped out of someone’s hunting pictures. She smiled. _Gotta love a gun made to hunt threasher maws._

She opened another image, and another. _M-13 Raptor. Widow-it’ll knock a head off from three miles away, and only dislocate your shoulder for the trouble! Ruzad. Claymore. Cain: still not convinced that’s a real gun, but I love it anyway. Falcon. Phaeston: turian gun that looks almost remnant, thankfully no one popped over from Andromeda to get them for copyright infringement. Another Claymore-wait, that’s the same image from before, he put it in twice. M-96 Mattock. Good old Katana._

She studied each fuzzy, watermarked image, smiling fondly. There were thirty-seven pictures in all.

_I need to thank that old man. He just met me, and he’s still done a better job comforting me than, well, anyone. He didn’t have to do this for a short-lived piece of meat like me, but he did._

She found Drack in the galley, taking inventory, rearranging things, muttering about what he could make.

“Hey, can I help?” she asked.

“Huh?” He pulled his face out of a cabinet. “Oh. Sure kid. Here.” He kicked open one of the lower cabinets. “Pull everything outta there. Who puts food that low to the ground, varren?”

She knelt on the galley floor and began hauling out packages of rice noodles and cans of dextro stew and Th4, the salarian analogue to spam. “Ugh, all this stuff,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “You think you can make something decent out of this?”

“Yeah, I’ve been doin’ this a long time. I’ve made do with less. Oughta tell you about the time I kept a crew fed for a week with nothin’ but half a pyjack and a carburetor. We have some fresh stuff, though. Your colony got to work fast.”

He glanced down at her. “You got a hell of a big job on your shoulders, kid.”

“Heh, yeah,” she replied, pulling the last couple bags of Thessian dried legumes out of the back of the cabinet. “The guns helped.”

“Thought they might. Here, hand me those.” Drack shuffled a few more items around in the upper cabinets to make room for the beans.

She gestured to a couple of belt-bags under the galley benches, along with his Ruzad and a few spare clips. “Guessing those are yours?”

Drack grunted an assent, setting a few cans and a package of noodles aside.

“That can’t be all you brought.”

“You travel light when supplies are tight and you’re on your own.”

“How long were you on Eos? “

“Long enough to cause a drop in the local kett population. You’re welcome for that, by the way.”

“Sounds like you’re the biggest expert on fighting kett we have. Any words of wisdom?”

“Don’t let ‘em shoot you, but I think you’ve figured that one out. Let’s see.” Drack studied the label of the canister in his hand a moment before putting it firmly aside. “You saw their sneaky varren things. Damn hard to see, but they get excited about killing--keep your ears open, and they’ll give themselves away. Their ground troops got a lotta guns and some smoke bombs, but I haven’t seen a kett yet with anything like biotics. They don’t have a clue how to deal with your abilities yet, but that won’t last forever.” He shuffled through a number of small packages. “Damn, it’s nice to have spices again.”

“Leaving the Nexus, making your own way in Heleus…” she began. He turned slightly to regard her with one big yellow eye as she struggled with the question she was trying to ask. “That… couldn’t have been an easy choice.”

“It was, actually,” he replied. “You think Tann and Addison have their heads up their collective asses now, but they were a whole lot worse when we first came outta cryo. Morda woulda wiped them off the station a long time ago if it weren’t for my ru’shan.”

“Ru’shan? That word doesn’t translate.”

“Child of my blood, my granddaughter Kesh. You probably met her. She’s superintendent of the Nexus.”

“She helped design the station, didn’t she? Masina said, impressed. “All the way back to when Garson was making prototypes and trying to chase down funders.”

“That’s my Kesh. She’s been taking things apart since she was old enough to hold a hammer,” Drack said proudly as he set some cookware on the galley’s small range. “That station woulda fallen apart ages ago if it weren’t for her. Nexus hit the scourge straight outta lightspeed, tore it all to hell. Kesh kept it together for those first few months with nothin’ but sweat, stubborn, and a soldering gun.”

Masina watched him pour out a can of what looked like Terran pork’n’beans. “Drack… It seems like station superintendent should have been higher in the line of succession for director than…whatever the hell Tann was.”

Drack grunted in assent. “That damn salarian didn’t make fixing the Nexus any easier, from what I hear. Treated Kesh like a third-rate shop mechanic ‘til she stopped Morda from wearin’ his spine for a hat.”

“A lot of things came with us that would have been better left behind,” she said. “I get the feeling Tann and the others didn’t _quite_ give me the whole story about the uprising and the krogan leaving. Care to enlighten me?”

“Here, stir this for me, wouldya?” Drack said, gesturing to the stew pot. “This is gonna take a minute to explain. Don’t mix up the spoons either, the little saucepan’s dextro.”

He leaned back against the galley table and started in on the story.“So I was in cryo for the first little while, but from what Kesh’s told me, Tann couldn’t lead his way out of an airlock. People learned pretty quick that he’s a slimy little liar, and Addison’d support whatever lame-brain plan spilled outta his mouth. I expect he meddled with the line of succession somehow—no way Garson’d mean for _him_ to be running her show. Tann and Addison mismanaged their way through the first couple’a months ‘til there wasn’t enough food left to keep those awake from starving or eating each other before crops’re ready. So, they ask everybody to just quietly go back on ice and trust these idiots to get them out again when they’d solved all our problems.”

“And people called bullshit.” Masina said.

“Heh, you got that right. Life support team started it—they’d lost some people already cleaning up Tann’s mistakes. Headed by a turian named, uh… gimme a minute, it’ll come to me. Mm... Callus? Corvus? Eh, whatever, he’s dead now. Anyway, they unlock some doors, bust a couple of cameras, borrow an armory-- _little stuff_. And Tann decides the best way to deal with this bunch of worked-up _technicians_ is to wake up Morda, and all the fighters in Nakmor.”

Masina looked up from stirring the stew, wide-eyed. “That must have been a bloodbath.”

“Makes you understand why Sloane decided to switch sides right about then. Wasn’t a fair fight, but one of Tann’s toadies, this human named Spender, had promised on Tann’s authority that the krogan’d have a spot on the new council if we did it. So we did it.”

“The krogan are getting a place on the council?”

“Yeah, well. Spender lied.”

“Bastard.”

“Doesn’t cover the half of it. Anyway, Morda woulda killed every last one of those rebels if Kesh hadn’t come down to shout some sense into everyone. So Tann told ‘em all to get into cryo or get off the station. Smug bastard was sure they’d all file into their pods. I think they left to prove him wrong as much as anything.”

“And then the krogan left, because Tann used you.” Masina said, filling in the gaps. She shook her head. “Did he even realize how stereotypical he was being, or was that lost on him too?”

“I don’t give two shits what Tann thinks about himself. But we didn’t go quietly. Morda wanted to go to war, take out everyone who wasn’t krogan on the whole Nexus, leadership, exiles, vent-patchers, the works.”

“What stopped her?” Masina asked.

A slow, broad smile spread across Drack’s craggy face. “My ru’shan.”

“Kesh stopped _Morda_?!” Masina gasped.

“Heh heh heh. Like I said, my ru’shan’s special.”

“I didn’t know Kesh could fight like that.”

“She didn’t have to. She convinced her, got it into Morda’s damn hard head that we might all need each other, and Nakmor’s strong enough to go make our own colony and let you all solve your own problems for now, with Kesh stayin’ around to keep you all honest. So remember all that.”

Masina stirred the stew, and whatever green paste Vetra was having, and thought. _Six hundred years away, and still all the same old baggage. Council races using krogan as a hammer to beat down their problems and then put aside when they want rights. Dammit, we were supposed to be better than this._

“And do you believe her,” she asked, “that we might all need each other?”

“I’d do anything for Kesh, and the colony,” Drack said after a moment, putting the lid on the stew in front of her. “That’ll need to simmer a while. Leave it be for now.”

 


	8. Close Encounters of the First Kind

Masina stepped into the bridge, taking in the view, the twisting waves of warp travel. It was always an odd and exhilarating feeling, seeing that one is hurtling faster than light, while feeling perfectly still.

“Where’s my datapad?” Suvi said, looking around her workstation. “Oh, how’d you get under there?”

“Uh, Suvi?” Kallo asked, glancing in her direction. “Were you talking to your notebook?”

“Oh. I was, wasn’t I? Suvi absently replied, “I do that sometimes.”

“Good to see you, Ryder,” said Kallo, turning back to his instrument panel. “ETA in thirty minutes.”

“Thanks, Kallo,” Masina said, leaning over the bridge rail. “How’s the research going, Suvi?”

“I’ve been analyzing readings of the Scourge. Deadly as it is, it’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Masina replied. “Reminds me of…some sort of organism, with how we’ve seen it move. Like watching jellyfish tentacles under a microscope, launching a thousand little grappling needles. Sort of… a dark kind of beauty.”

“Darkly beautiful,” Suvi echoed. “I like that. All of Heleus--Oh, the remnant technology, of course--But the cluster _itself_. So beautiful and intricate, how it’s all been put together by a power so wonderful, and careful. It’s hard not to feel a little awe now and then.”

_That sounds a lot like faith._

Suvi took her pause as incredulity. “Yes, I believe in a higher power. I know it’s a little odd. But I am a scientist because science brings me closer to something greater than myself.”

 _Pleasant surprise. Not often you meet somebody you can talk to about both theology and interstellar physics. Even if she does eat dirt sometimes_. “I know what you mean.”

“You do?”

“I didn’t leave my faith at customs,” Masina replied. “I grew up with it, at least when I was on Earth. I’ve really always been traveling, since I was old enough to remember, and I’ve seen so many worlds, with so many amazing things and peoples, and they all seem…connected. Would make it hard not to believe.”

“Yes, exactly!” Suvi exclaimed. “It’s wonderful to meet someone else who understands.”

“Not,” Masina admitted, “that I always _remember_ my faith at the times it’d be most useful for me, y’know? I find it comes up a lot when stargazing. Less so when falling from orbit.”

“I know the feeling,” Suvi laughed. “Well, not the falling from orbit bit, thankfully. I’m glad to know this about you, Ryder. I’ve had to justify myself so often, as if having faith invalidated my work as a scientist. As if the sacred could be diminished by the search for truth.”

“With how far we’ve come, it seems like we should be ready for the universe to be big, and complicated, and amazing,” Masina said, gesturing widely.

“The Milky Way was just a little corner of the universe.” Suvi said, nodding enthusiastically. “A tiny corner of a corner. The more we learn, the bigger the universe gets to me, and I feel like I come just a little closer to understanding the intelligence behind it all. This journey, I didn’t know what it’d do to me, but I’m so grateful to have ended up here. When I think back on how many factors had to align just right...”

“My mother had a saying: God doesn’t always take you where want to go, but he’ll always make sure you get to where you need to be.”

“That’s rather beautiful. Where is it from?”

“No idea. I—"

Alarms blared, cutting off their conversation. The bridge lit up with dozens of flashing warning lights.

“Kallo, what the--!” Masina cried.

“We’re on a collision course with unknown objects,” Kallo shouted.

“Make corrections,” she shouted. “SAM? Are you on this?”

“Collision is imminent,” SAM stated.

 _Just my luck_ , she thought. “All stop, now!”

She cursed as the viewport cleared. _Oh hey, **kett dreadnaught**. Fancy meeting you here_.

“Kett ships,” shouted Suvi. “A dozen—more!”

 _I wonder if they’ve seen—oh yes, they’ve seen us. That thing has guns bigger than my entire ship. That’s cheating. And they’re coming around to point at us. Double cheating_.

“They’ve got us pinned against the Scourge!” Kallo said, frantically adjusting the ship’s controls.

SAM’s unnaturally calm voice chimed in. “They are scanning us, Pathfinder.”

“Well, scan them back!” Masina snapped.

The ship went dark. A few emergency lights kicked on, bathing the three of them in an eerie orange glow. Masina turned to Kallo, watching him frantically trying to reboot the system, with no success.

 _SAM will be on this. He’ll bring us back_.

She turned back to the viewport just as a projection flickered into view.

 _Not kett? Or not a type of kett we’ve seen before. Less bone, four nostrils, same eyes, different facial structure. No bone on the nose-bridge or chin, no honeycombing on the cheeks. Could be hive classes, like insects. Hello, kett queen? Your kids are bastards and you all need to go home and have a nap_.

The figure on the screen spoke. “Where is the one who activated the Remnant?”

Masina heard the door and the rush of familiar steps as the rest of the crew came running onto the bridge. It’s a comfort: however small and outgunned they are, they’ll stand together.

“Their genetic signature is there. Answer me.”

The thought of chucking dad’s helmet out the airlock briefly crossed her mind. _There you go, that’s all that’s left of him._

_No, that won’t work. They know what I did on Eos. The skies parted and the kett dropped dead, someone was bound to notice. Global terraforming: not exactly subtle. What they hell kind of scanners have they got, that’ll ID my damn genes through the hull?_

She could hear Liam behind her trying to bust up there and have a go against the kett bastard. Cora of all people was holding him back, trusting Ryder to take care of it. _If we don’t die I’m going to thank you for that, Harper_.

“All these questions,” Masina said to the screen, “and we haven’t even been introduced. Who the hell are you?”

“Ryder,” called Suvi, “they’ve locked navigation!”

“We’re being steered into their ship,” said Kallo, still managing to sound a bit matter of fact in his focus.

 _Damn big bully, shoving us around. Use your words._ “Tell me what you want.”

“I won’t explain what you can’t understand.”

_Arrogant, pointless bastard. Why I should—_

_“Ryder.”_ SAM’s cool voice over their private channel cut through her internal rant. _“I have almost regained control of the ship. I need a few more seconds.”_

_Right. Keep him talking._

“Actually,” she rambled “I know a lot about the Remnant. We should compare notes. Maybe over a nice coffee. Fewer guns, more respect for bodily autonomy, you--”

“Enough! Your defiance is naïve and reckless.”

 _Yeah, tell me something I don’t know_. She opened her mouth to spout another one-liner.

“This day marks the beginning of your greatness.”

The feed cut out.

“Well,” Masina ventured, startled, “that was—“

“Controls are coming back online!” Kallo shouted, his hands already flying across the consoles as the lights came back up.

“SAM, you beautiful animal,” Masina crowed. “Now can you get us out of here?”

“There is a possible route through the scourge,” SAM stated.

“Gotta be better than here,” she said. “Do it.” 

They darted away from the dreadnaught, straight into the arms of the Scourge. Her skin was crawling. She could _feel_ the gravitational anomalies trying to tear the ship apart.

An explosion filled the aft viewscreens, and the whole ship shuddered.

“Suvi, how bad?”

“Enemy destroyed. Damage to aft sensors.”

“Scourge got it?”

“Yes.”

There was a weird calm in moments like this, fighting for your life. How odd it was to be looking at it from the outside. Kallo and SAM were the ones fighting for all their lives now. Nothing to do but believe in them, and watch. The Scourge was like being inside an igniting firework. Tendrils of it flared out, reaching towards the ship.

Distantly, she was aware of the other members of the crew shouting.

 _Well, so this is how we die,_ she thought. _Torn apart by a beautiful space anomaly. I suppose there’s worse ways_.

Sparking closer and closer. She could hardly see the path ahead for the glow.

And then they were clear, sailing out in to the void.

She came back to herself to hear Kallo being congratulated by Drack. The crew were all cheering.  Perhaps the universe had shifted, just a little bit.

The Scourge boiled behind them, looking abstractly carnivorous through the one working aft sensor. _If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was sulky about not getting to make us into confetti._

“Yeah. Kallo’s the hero of the hour. You too, SAM. Really stuck it to ‘Rah bah I don’t talk to lesser life forms except tell them they’re lesser life forms’ back there.  I almost wish I could have seen that kett’s face as we flew off.”

“Ryder!” Gil shouted over the comms. “We’ve got trouble down here. You need to find us a port, now!”

“Suvi, where they hell are we?”

“Sensors are a mess...”

“Yeah, probably voided the warranty.”

“Right,” Suvi said absently, focused on her calculations. ‘Ryder, I’m missing some key data here, but I think we’re at the vault’s coordinates.”

“I’ll take it.” She opened the comm. “Gil, we’re at a world. Hell, it might even be the one we were aiming for. Hold her together—we’re setting down.”

****

{Aya, fifteen minutes previous.}

The Resistance Headquarters was a thrumming hive of collaboration and contradictions. There was the bustle through the hallways, the precision of their coordination: the camaraderie, and occasional chaos, of so many people working together.

Jaal had received his assignment, but a weight lingered on his heart. It would give him no peace until it was expressed. And so now he approached the man at the center of it all.

“Jaal. You’re back,” Evfra stated, his voice it’s typical, unnervingly dispassionate tone.

 “Evfra. I have something I need to speak to you about, something I was not sure how to explain at the morning briefing.” He paused, putting the words together in his head one last time. “I have been reviewing the reports on these Imasaf aliens. I feel we should make contact with them. What if they could tip the balance in our favor?”

“Encounters with them on Kadara have been violent,” Evfra replied.

“And the angara they met there were traitors and deserters,” Jaal responded. “If we do not act, that may be the only understanding of our people these strangers will have.” His expression was sincere, pleading.

Evfra did not meet his gaze. “There are too many unknowns. For now, the risks outweigh the benefit.”

Jaal dared to persevere. “When I was a child, I dreamed of this: how many stars there are! What strange people might live around them? Surely it cannot just be the angara and the kett in this universe. What if there were people, not entirely like us, but close enough to be allies, even friends? To understand each other, peacefully. That was my thought as a child, and now, as a man, I have seen evidence that my dream may be true.” Jaal stepped closer. “Evfra, I am sure they are different from us. But I believe they may also be different from the kett. Perhaps a technological exchange?”

Evfra sighed, lifting his gaze to meet Jaal’s eyes. “I will take it into consideration. For now, you have your assignment.”

“Yes, Evfra.”

****

“Hey, Jaal!” a voice called through the crowded hallways. “Orrin said your rifle’s the best one in the resistance. I want to see.”

The voice belonged to one of the new recruits Jaal had been mentoring. Moraan, recently come to Aya from Daar Pallon, in the north of Voeld. Strong of heart, but often too eager to prove his beliefs with fists. Jaal noted the bruises on his crest and brow.

“Moraan.” He handed over the Lanat for the young recruit to examine. “You’ve been fighting.”

“Laeta,” Moraan spat out the name. “She saw me make a call to my little sister, my Anjka. She said I was not fighting for her, that she was too stupid and ugly for the kett to bother to take. I won’t let them talk about her like that!  Anjka is so smart, Jaal! She just needs a little more time to do things with her injured side.”

He started to gesture angrily with the rifle. Jaal took his hands and adjusted the grip to keep the weapon aimed safely at the ground.

 “I told Laeta this,” Moraan continued, “but she persisted. So, I punched her. Several times. Now her brother stands with her. They have no regard for their words, and speak of me as the villain for striking her. Jaal, if they provoke me again, I will break both their jaws. Perhaps then their mothers will finally teach them how to speak to others.”

“And then,” Jaal replied, “the Resistance would have lost three capable fighters. What they said was wrong, and shows them for fools to those who know of your sister. But the Resistance cannot tolerate a member that weakens our numbers, Moraan. They will—“

A commotion rose in the command room.

Jaal gave the rifle in the recruit’s arms a quick pat. “You take a better look at this. I’m going to go see what’s going on.”

****

The command room was buzzing with activity, a tumult of voices sounding at once.  Figures crowded around every console, Evfra the only still point in a sea of activity.

“What is it?” one of the technicians shouted.

“A ship!” another replied. “Just popped outta the Scourge. Pilot must be mad to pull a stunt like that.”

“It’s not ours,” one of the sensors analyst said, examining the ship profile on his console. “It doesn’t look anything like a kett ship.”

“The Imasaf aliens,” an intel analyst gasped. “They’ve found Aya?”

 _“One ship_ has found Aya,” one of the technicians corrected her. “It’s damaged. Looks pretty bad.”

“They’re headed for the planet,” said the sensors analyst. “Probably looking to put down and make repairs.”

“What are your orders, Evfra?” asked a flight commander. “Do we engage, or leave them to land in the wastes?”

“Evfra,” a communications officer shouted, “Commander Do Xeel needs to speak with you. The kett are moving on Voeld.”

The voice of Port-Commander Arjen sounded over the comms. “They’re coming in close to the capitol!”

Governor Paaran Shie’s cool voice entered the tumult, patched in through another comm channel. “Evfra,” she said. “I would remind you that Aya port authority is under my jurisdiction.”

“And protecting people from hostile aliens is the responsibility of the Resistance!” one of the sensors technicians shouted in reply.

“Are they hostile?” someone shouted.

“Could we even tell?” another voice replied.

“We have a translation prototype from the files Jaal recovered,” said a technician, as she worked hurriedly on the console before her. “It will take a moment to get installed, though.”

“We need to hail them now,” Port-Commander Arjen said, “or they’re going to hit the storms.”

Paaran’s voice replied quickly, without hesitation. “Do it, Arjen. Ask them why they are here.”

Evfra spoke. “Squadron Naar Roa, move to flank. Hold fire, and be ready for anything.”

“Explain your purpose!” Arjen commanded the aliens.

Silence.

The room stilled, as everyone waited for these new invaders to respond. Would it be friendship, or fire? The fate of Aya, and perhaps all angara, hung waiting for an answer.

“Explain your purpose!” Arjen asked again, nearly shouting across the comms.

The alien ship responded, the words foreign and incomprehensible. The speaker’s voice was…strange, a bit high, with an odd crispness to it. The emotion of their tone was…intriguing. _They sound terrified and brave and confident and unsure, all at once._  

The translator caught up with the words, as best it could. The phrasing was still very raw, and halting, but the meaning seemed fairly clear. “We. Traveling ones…from other galaxy. Our intent is peaceful.”

“Pah!” an intel analyst near Jaal spat. “They are lying.”

“What if they are not?” Jaal replied, in a tone intended to carry across the room. “If they are enemies, we can always kill them later.”

“Perhaps we send them to Toj Plateau?” someone shouted. “Let them make repairs there.”

“No,” Paaran said firmly. “Arjen, have them land here.”

“Good enough,” Arjen said, to them and the aliens. “Proceed to these coordinates.”

“Paaran’s given them permission to land!” someone shouted out into the hall. “She’s bringing them here!”

“Into the city? Govenor Shie!”

Paaran’s voice came over the comms one last time. “They are willing to talk. I want to hear what they have to say.”

“Tvel, bring up Commander Do Xeel,” Evfra ordered. “Jaal, go to the docks.  You want to know more about these aliens: looks like you have your chance.”


	9. If I Get Eaten Alive, Please Destroy the Vids

_Well, if I’m gonna die, it’s a damn beautiful place to do it,_ Masina thought as she walked down the ramp of the Tempest, arms raised. It occurred to her she’d had the same thought at least twice already in the last week. _I guess destiny’s giving me the grand tour: top ten places to die in the Heleus Cluster._

Figures ran towards her, armored and carrying long rifles. Swift, but with a certain heft, grace of a quarian with the bulk of a krogan. She kept her hands up, that they could see she was unarmed. _Hopefully not a rude gesture._   They circled around her, one waving a scanner. _Spaceport security. Ha._ ‘Should I take off my shoes?’ _No translators, no harm. Hopefully SAM can give me something on their language soon, or it’s ‘Ryder plays charades for her life.’_

One of the armored figures gestured ahead, as the rest formed a pack around her. One came just short of shoving her with the stock of their rifle. _Okay! And we’re moving._

She could only catch glimpses of the city as they rushed her through. Lush gardens, smooth white walls painted with soft blue designs, artistic. _And I rate this scenic tour 3/5 stars: Tour guides had too many guns._

Her heavily armed retinue stopped, parting in front of her. An array of unarmored figures stood at the top of the stairs in front of her.

_Hey, these ones aren’t in ergonomic tin cans, yes! They’re… pretty. Squishier-looking than the kett, not that that’s hard. Broader than a human. Mantle around the face looks attached. Wonder what it’s function is? Clothing looks soft, casual, ornamented--probably not a full militaristic race._

“I am Paaran Shie, Governor of Aya” said the figure in the center of the array. “We are the angara.”

SAM’s voice buzzed in the back of her head _. “They appear to have functional translation programs, Pathfinder. Attempting to extrapolate.”_

_Shit, how long have their translators been working? No sweat, Ryder. This is already going better than last time._

“Hello,” she said, trusting their interpretation programs.  “I’m a Pathfinder with the Initiative.” _Small words, simple concepts. Not dying because of an idiom._

“Yes. You crossed darkspace. I’ve heard of your journey,” Govenor Shie replied. Another angara shouldered past her. “Jaal.” She sounded affronted. “I have this in hand.”

_Now who’s this guy, who can interrupt the governor?_

He raised a hand against her protest. “Evfra saw the ship come in and sent me to find out what’s going on.”

“She’s a human from another galaxy,” Paaran said as the newcomer stalked down the stairs. “A Pathfinder.”

He strode right up to her, not stopping until he was well inside her personal space. For the first time she got a real sense of how _big_ these people were. He was at least a head taller than her, and three times as broad. He loomed over her, big blue cat eyes, difficult to read, studying her intensely.

_So this is what a bug under a microscope feels like._ She struggled to keep her agitation from causing her amp to charge. That would surely be seen as a threat, and threatening was the last thing she wanted to be right now.

“Aya is hidden. _Protected_. What do you want?”

“I’m sorry. Landing here the way we did, unannounced, on fire… that wasn’t the plan.”

“That’s good to know. Because if it was…” He leaned even closer. “That would be a very bad plan.” He paused for a beat, some subtle expression on his face, before turning away.

_I genuinely cannot tell if I’m supposed to be intimidated or reassured. Or maybe mildly insulted._

“I’ll inform Evfra,” he continued. “He’ll be waiting for you in his office at the Resistance Headquarters. I’ll meet you there.”

Paaran watched him go. _Someone stole her show, and she’s not happy about it. Maybe we’re not the only ones with fractured leadership._ The governor turned back to her. “I will accompany you through our city. Your crew will stay on your ship. Follow me. Do not try to explore or interact with anyone: Evfra’s guards will use force if necessary.”

“Understood. Is it okay to ask you questions?”

“I suppose.”

She followed, studying Paaran. 

_They have little grabby feet! I wonder how much dexterity those have? Doesn’t seem to affect their architecture much. Wide hip angle, muscular legs-probably have killer balance to make up for that high center of gravity. Some ribbing along their head-mantle-thing, almost like mushroom gills. No visible ears-I wonder where their auditory sensors are?_

More unarmored angara crowded along their path. SAM must have gotten the translator working on her end. She could hear them discussing her: “What is it?” “An alien in the city! Why is Paaran allowing this?”

The crowds were anxiously observing her. Many bright blue eyes, all focused on this one little human. ‘ _Aya is hidden, protected_.’ _Protected from whom? Us? We’ve barely been here. The kett? If those assholes were their first introduction to alien life, I’m surprised they haven’t shot me._

_Yet. They haven’t shot me yet. The day’s still young._

“If you’re the governor,” Masina asked, “why do we have to see this Evfra?” _That was probably insulting, pointing out she’s not the person with the most power here, but I probably also need to know._

“He is leader of the Resistance.”

“What’s that?”

“They fight the kett, and protect us.”

_So Paaran here’s the civilian leader, Evfra’s the military leader. Different spheres, different priorities, same resource pool: conflict._

“And that other one, who pushed past you?”

“Jaal. One of Evfra’s lieutenants.”

_Part of a continued power struggle? Paaran, the civilian leader, got to me first, and this Evfra sent a lieutenant to disrupt her control over the situation? Even if it wasn’t the intent, looks like that’s the functional result._

The crowds continued to chatter around her.

“We have a visitor!”

“That’s a human. Seen one before.”

“This isn’t safe. We should lock it up.”

“At least it’s not the kett.”

“It belongs in a containment cell.”

_Letting an alien go unmolested here really doesn’t seem popular with the locals. I wonder if this is going to undermine Paaran’s status? Her title translated to governor, which implies election._

“Softer than a kett. Not as big. I think I could take it.”

“Its head is so _tiny_. Are they all like that?”

_Do they realize I can hear them?_

SAM’s voice buzzed through their private channel. _“I detect unusual levels of electrostatic energy in the angara.”_

_Maybe they’re all biotics with amps? Wouldn’t that be a sight to see. Or perhaps they all have little SAMs in their heads, and they play remtech like a… What instrument could they play with those hands? Fuck it, they play remtech like a kazoo. I’m the Pathfinder, I can use whatever metaphor I want._

“Let Governor Shie handle this.”

“How did it find us?”

“What do I tell my children?”

“Am I that intimidating?” Masina asked. “I don’t intend to be.”

“Regardless of your intention, you are an outsider that has invaded our planet. We know nothing about you,” the governor replied.

“I’m not here to cause trouble.” _Not that I haven’t caused trouble for you, I’m sure._

“Then keep moving.”

Paaran led her around a corner, to the most beautiful sight she’d seen in… Well, at least six hundred years.

_Oh. The waterfalls. Oh, and the plants, the flowers! The... fungus? Those purples and blues: is that pigmentation, or some new photosynthetic compound?_

_I am going to get myself shot for ogling the scenery._  It was beautiful, but more than that. The feel of the tile beneath her feet, the smell of the stone, the water, the flowers. It felt _right._  Some warm, fuzzy feeling had settled in the pit of her stomach and was rising through her lungs.

_It feels like a home. Because it is. It’s **their** home. And nobody has the right to take it away from them. _

“Your city is _beautiful._ ”

“Thank you. You’re the first outsider to see it.”

_Outsider. A kinder word than alien._ “I’m honored, Governor Shie.”

********

Masina entered the building. It felt spacious—because it was made for people bigger than her. More white walls. More angara staring at her, though these had more combat-oriented garb, armors and underarmors.

She could hear conversation up ahead. _I really think they don’t expect me to be able to hear them_.

“Don’t get kicked out, Moraan—not because of them.” 

“But you’re telling me to be weak!”

No. I’m telling you to be strong, through your cunning and heart. Okay? Hey.”

Masina walked up the stairs to see an armored angara passing a long-barreled rifle to the lieutenant she had encountered at the docks. 

“It really is the best one in the Resistance.”

“I know,” replied the lieutenant.

_Bit arrogant? Or a compliment? And that doesn’t look like the rifles my sunny escort had. It looks… almost kett, but not quite._  

_Lieutenant Turquoise there is taking time away from this super-important one-woman alien invasion to advise some kid on his life choices. Says something about his priorities, either on a cultural level or a personal one._

The other angara, the one who had handed the lieutenant the rifle, studied her with overt suspicion as she passed him. _They sure are good at looming. I get it, you’re afraid I’m an evil monster come to kill you. I’d not give me the warmest welcome either. But ease off on the body language, and just come out with it and tell me I’m scary._

The guards that had been escorting her fell away, leaving her alone with Evfra’s lieutenant.

_I guess I’m his problem now_.

“Our experience with the kett makes us naturally distrustful of all aliens,” he explained.

_Finally._

“We’ve had our own run-ins with the kett,” she replied.

_Kirkland on Seven, gunned down as he tried to surrender. Eos, with bodies of peaceful colonists left half-buried in the sand. And if that’s what the kett have done to us…_

“Then, you really do understand,” he said. His tone carried a surprising amount of sympathy. He continued. “When the Archon came to Heleus, he demolished our sovereign state—took what he wanted, as if we were nothing. And now, the kett mercilessly abduct angara. Often, we never see our people again.” He gestured ahead. “Come this way. Evfra is waiting.”  He turned to lead her.

“Wait,” she said, shocked. “The kett kidnap you? Steal your people?”

He replied solemnly, “And the resistance fights them every day, with everything we can.” He slowed a step, no longer leading her, but walking with her.

_What if dad hadn’t been killed, but had been taken? What if they took Enele, my brother? I’d stop at nothing to get him back. But this isn’t a single kidnapping. How many of these people have had a loved one stolen?_

_The kett don’t do evil halfway, I’ll give them that._

“Is it attrition?” she asked. “What are they after?”

“You should save your questions for Evfra.”

She noticed as he looked ahead, that this lieutenant, -- _Jaal, Paaran said his name is Jaal-_ \- was missing a chunk from his mantle. _How much else have you lost, personally?_

They wound through the halls of the base, past many more armored angara, presumably all members of the Resistance. They seemed to take Jaal’s lead in not pointing weapons her way. She was thankful for that, at least.

_Not sure I’m going to get out of this place if they don’t want me to,_ she thought, as another door closed behind her. _Biotics can do a lot, but they aren’t magic. I’m pretty sure I’m too far from the Tempest now to bug out if things go south._

_Well, at least it isn’t charades._

They entered the command room. Screens lined the wall, crawling with information. Images, troop movements, writing in at least two alphabets, she even spotted the Initiative symbol tagging a bit of passing data. Multiple planetary holograms flipped back and forth. Massive fronts were tagged in shades of blue and red.

_I am a small concern in a very large war._

Jaal stepped forward, addressing the angara standing in the middle of it all. “Evfra, this is one of the aliens from the… _Meelky Way_.”

_He used our word. Butchered it a little bit, but used our word, instead of his own._

“She is a Pathfinder.”

“Pathfinder.” Evfra seemed to consider the word carefully. Rolling it around, examining every angle. He regarded her warily. “It’s an aggressive move, coming to Aya.”

“It wasn’t meant that way. I didn’t even know there were people on this planet until you hailed me. I have an ark full of desperate people counting on me to find them a home before they starve.”

“Of course. I… feel for you and your people. So. Pathfinder. Why are you here?”

_Because it was that or crash,_ she thought. _No, it’s more than that. Best to start with the whole truth. Maybe they can help me understand these vaults._

“On a hostile planet we call Eos, I explored an ancient structure, a vault, and brought it back online.  It stabilized that planet’s environment. Ended the radiation storms. Made it habitable.”

“Remnant. Recent intelligence supports that claim,” Jaal said. He stepped closer, standing beside her, as if they were facing Evfra together.

“If I’m right,” she continued, “there’s a vault on Aya that’s different. I need to look inside.”

Evfra turned away from them to gaze out the window. _To look upon his people while he figures out what to do with me._ “You’re right. There’s a vault out there, but it was shut years ago and the entrance hidden. We… can’t help you.”

“The Moshae could.” Jaal blurted. He turned to her. “She is our most revered scientist and elder. She knows this vault.”

“But now the kett have her, and our rescue attempts failed.” Evfra said, turning to regard Jaal and Ryder in equal measure. “She’s lost to us—and you.”

“There must be some way,” Masina said, daring to push a little as she stepped up to the window. “The kett won’t be expecting us to work together. We could help each other, if you’ll let me.”

“Arrogant!” Evfra shouted. “I don’t know you, let alone trust you. Why would I want your help?”

A dozen reasons flashed through her mind, but in the face of his anger, she couldn’t bring herself to voice one. She shrank back against the window, her body language submissive, wondering if this would be the misstep that killed her.

“Of course. I apologize.”

_Man, those are terrible last words. Calm down, Ryder. He doesn’t even have a weapon out, and there’s only a fifty-fifty chance he can kill you with his mind_.

_What the hell am I gonna do now?_

Jaal broke the silence, “Evfra. I feel…”  He moved to stand beside her as they both faced the Resistance leader. “Evfra, what this alien says is extraordinary. The Moshae would want us to be brave, and not let this chance pass.”

_Mister Lieutenant Jaal Turquoise, sir: you are my new favorite person_.

“Jaal,” Evfra replied, “you talk too much.”

_Come on, Evfra, listen to him. Inaction won’t help us right now. Just give me a chance to help._

Jaal holstered his rifle, his attention now entirely focused on Evfra. “Let me assess this… alien. I’ll be your eyes—I know you can spare me,” he added, a slight edge to his voice. 

Evfra’s face tightened. _Frustration, or disgust?_ “Go if you want.” Evfra said, storming off. “But when she tries to kill you, be prepared to strike first.”

_Well…that worked_ , she thought as she watched Evfra go. _If all your soldiers are half as bold as my friend here, Evfra, your life is herding cats._ She turned back to her new friend, the angara willing to give her a chance.

“I’m Jaal Ama Darav. I’ll be your envoy through angaran space.”

“I’m Masina Ryder. Thank you for trusting me.”

“I don’t,” he replied. “But… I can always kill you in your sleep."

_Ah, right._ Ryder deflated a bit, her heart sinking, stomach clenching. _Friendly as he might seem, I’m still the invading alien. It will take more than one joint negotiation to earn his trust._

_Or maybe I just don’t understand their humor?_

_Either way, I guess an honest death threat is better than a hidden one. Probably. A little._

“Good to know.”


	10. Impressions

 

_Communication to Sahuna Ama Darav_

_Mother, I have momentous news! A new alien people have made contact with us on Aya. They call themselves the Initiative, and are from the Imasaf galaxy, which they call the Milky Way. They have professed peaceful intentions, and have offered to help us against the kett._

_I have spoken with their vesoan, and I feel there is truth in her words. I feel that I have been given an opportunity for the adventure of a lifetime. I have volunteered to assess them and discover the truth of their intentions by having them assist our cause. I will accompany them, and expect to board the scout ship of this vesoan momentarily._

_The vesoan, who is called “Pathfinder” by her people, she has a great interest in the remnant, and desires the help and knowledge of our Moshae. Mother, I believe the Moshae is still alive, and that these aliens can help us rescue her. It is impossible that these new arrivals will not change the shape of the war. I am excited to see how. I am aware of the risks. I feel convicted this is the chance I have been waiting for. More, I feel this is the chance our people have been waiting for. I shall learn so many new things from these visitors to share with our people._

_I have told you my hopes, now I shall turn them into action. Though I may not return, it is a worthy cause that I will happily risk my life for._

_Stay clear, mother._

_Jaal_

 

He sent the letter, his heart filled with a reckless, daring sort of hope. It would be deep in the night cycle at his family’s home on Havarl right now. There was no time to rouse everyone and have them be awake enough to receive such surprising news. _No, that’s an excuse--They won’t want me to go, and I don’t want to be dissuaded. We cannot afford to block out the sun in fear of the storm_.

His comm pinged. Not his family. Evfra wished to speak with him. He opened the channel. It was not wise, or kind, to make the leader of the Resistance wait.

“Jaal. I trust you are still committed to playing ambassador to the aliens?”

“I am.”

Evfra sighed heavily.

“What happened on Voeld?” Jaal asked, remembering Evfra’s split attentions when the alien ship had come in. “Has the situation changed?”

“Nothing that changes your mission,” Evfra replied. He sounded very tired. “Sen Outpost was ambushed. Commander Do Xeel lost family in the attack. This Pathfinder could have appeared at a better time.”

“Jaal,” Evfra continued. “Much as I value your… optimism in our ranks, now you _must_ be cautious. We have to assume they are a threat. _Expect_ them to lie. Whatever they tell you, demand to see for yourself. Don’t let them take advantage of your good heart.”

“I will trust only in my own judgement, Evfra,” Jaal replied.

“Learn a dozen things about them for every one thing they learn about you. And always be ready to strike.”

The channel closed. _He is not happy with my choice._ Evfra acted always to protect all his people, and Jaal’s demand to risk himself had been a rejection of that protection. It had angered Evfra, but Jaal felt assured it was the right thing to do. He would make this choice again.

The Resistance was more than an army; it was a _family_ , one that united people from across family and bloodline and homeworld. For Evfra, it was the only family he had, and he held each of his fighters’ lives dear. Years of loss had made Evfra very cautious. _He would never have proposed any soldier of his take such a risk as I am, no matter the reward. He loves us all too dearly to chance throwing a life away for a reckless cause. In his way, his fear is not so different from that of my family: He does not want to lose another son._

Yet, if this vesoan, this ‘Pathfinder,’ who seemed so compassionate and genuine, was representative of her people, caution was…not going to be easy.

She had offered to help them. She would bring change, and he wanted to be a part of it.

_And if it does kill me, well…perhaps that is a purpose too._

*** 

“Enroh,” Jaal greeted his cousin at the top of the docks. “Evfra wished to brief me before I departed with the Pathfinder.”

“I’ve been supervising her,” Enroh replied. “A few of our people wanted to meet her here on the docks. Such a strange creature. Do you think she’s sincere?”

“I hope so.”

“I had Eysha deliver your things to the landing pad. Everything’s ready, cousin. Be careful out there.”

“You know I will.”

“Did you get to speak with your family?” Enroh asked.

“No. I sent them a letter, to…try and explain things.”

Enroh nodded understandingly. “They’ll have questions. I’ll try to answer as many as I can.”

They walked together towards the dock, and the alien.

“You really think the Moshae is alive?” Enroh asked.

“I’m sure of it,” Jaal replied.

Enroh paused a moment. “Don’t kill yourself bringing her home.”

Jaal tried to give his cousin an encouraging look as he stepped away.

“No promises.”

***

The Pathfinder. Indeed, such a strange creature. Since his mission to the crash site on Havarl, he had studied every scrap of available intelligence on this ‘Initiative’ and its peoples. It was disappointingly little: scans from wrecked ships, a decomposed corpse, a few poor-quality vids taken from the deserters on Kadara. There were so many unknowns: about their intent, their culture, the reasons for their journey here. Indications were that they had been in this galaxy for around a standard year. Still such a mystery.

_What must it be like for her, then, meeting us? She claims she was unaware we were here, or that we existed at all. Complete strangers to her, yet she was so quick to offer help. Many would say that is evidence she is lying, but… I don’t think so._

Her first words to him had been an apology, charmingly unrehearsed, self-aware, real. She was alien, but clearly emotionally expressive. Her empathy for the suffering of his people seemed deeply sincere. She had offered them her help, and had not dictated what form this help would take. She had not dictated anything at all. That alone made her different from the kett at first contact.

He felt so eager, so full of hope; trying to armor himself with caution was a struggle on this bright morning.

She was standing by the bridge to the landing pad. She turned to look at him as he approached. “You ready to go?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’ll introduce you to the rest of my crew.” They started moving. He noted her choice to walk beside him, rather than leading. “They’re an interesting bunch. They’ll be relieved to see I didn’t end up shot.”

The Tempest came into view.

“Your ship is…” _Huge, yet graceful. Every line sleek. Elegant. There is a fierceness to the design. Even at rest, it seems to fly._ It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful ship he had seen in his life. He was in awe. “We have nothing like it.”

“Wait ‘til you see the inside.”

“Hah. It gets better?”

“Oh yeah,” she replied with a grin. “She’s named the Tempest. Best scout ship in the Initiative. Way faster than anything we’ve seen from the kett.”

“Amazing. How does it work?”

“What?”

“Your ship.”

“What, the whole thing?”

He looked at her with hopeful expectation.

“Uh… eezo core makes the mass go negative. Greater negative mass, greater acceleration past lightspeed. It eats Helium-3. Secondary power goes into things like life support and kinetic barriers.”

“Fascinating. How does—“

“You’d do better asking our engineer. Or our pilot--he was on the crew that designed the ship, back in the Milky Way.”

“What is the size of your crew?”

“Ten. Eleven, counting you. We have a pretty balanced crew. Every Initiative species here is represented.” She grinned at him. “Bet you didn’t wake up this morning and think you’d meet five new species, did you?”

_“Five?”_

She started up the ramp. He lagged behind a moment, gathering his bundle of things. This _Tempest,_ for all its beauty, felt strange. It buzzed with undampened fields, chaotic, discordant, alive.

 He followed her onto the ship, and into the unknown.

***

The first thing he noticed within the ship was the texture of the air. It was stale, utilitarian, recycled but not refreshed. The energy fields within the ship were slightly dampened, but still very strong, both pleasant and unpleasant resonances tingling in his skin. An intriguing ground vehicle took up most of the cargo bay.

He had an awareness of space above--and figures on the balcony. _Wise of them to keep to the high ground._

“Ryder!” one of the figures above yelled. “You’re not dead! Hey guys, Ryder’s back, and she’s not dead!” The voice was in the middle range, with the same crispness to it as the Pathfinder’s.

 _And enthusiastic, which is heartening_.

“Told you she was comin’ back,” said a voice that reminded him of mining equipment. “Just a question of how much blood she’d have on her.”

 _Hers, or ours?  Concerning_.

He stepped forward then, into full view of those above. It felt bizarre, to stand so boldly before aliens, no weapon in hand. He embraced his fear; it would keep him sharp. He reveled in the strangeness, and the hope it brought with it.

He gathered his first impressions. Above was another human, slightly different coloration and body shape than the Pathfinder-- that one looked away when he studied them. This had been the first speaker, the excited one.

And the other…he wasn’t sure. Large, with a proper-sized head, covered in heavy armor that had… bones?... strapped to it. Less alien eyes. This one stared back _. If they were angara, I would say this one is as curious about me as I am about them._

Other figures appeared from all corners as the ramp slid closed behind him. Jaal was immediately aware he was surrounded, though they all appeared unarmed. There were paler humans and... blue humans? _Perhaps a subspecies, or a different sex?_

The figure that emerged next sent a chill through him. Kettlike, this one. The height, the armored skin, even the coattails, brought to mind a kett ascendant. He stared at this one intently. A less thoughtful soldier might have drawn his weapon in that moment.

_Clarity. Notice everything._

His ocular identified the exoskeletal plates were not bone, like the kett, but metallic. Its armor was ornamented, with personal touches and adornments, with _care_. There was a personality there that no kett possessed. _Perhaps their appearance is mere convergent design? Even karkyn have plates, why not aliens?_ Still, he acknowledged that the alien’s appearance was unsettlingly similar to the kett. He would have to account for that in his assessments.

Ryder spoke. “Erm. Guys… I have someone to introduce. This is Jaal. He’s coming with us.”

A cacophony of questions followed her announcement, too many for his prototype translator to fully handle.

\--Why is he coming with—

\--name of your species? It’s--

\-- need medical scans and—

\--about the _vault_. Ryder—

\--can he even—

\-- where are we gonna—

\--a baseline physical—

\--but the remnant—

\--hey guys.

\--here. Or—

\--not in _my_ bunk, we’ll just have to--

\--spacefaring? What kind of—

 “Guys!” Ryder’s shout managed to bring everyone’s attention. “We have a meeting room for a reason. I’ll meet you up there, just… We’ll be right up, okay?”

 _So many voices,_ he thought. _So much I am not understanding._

He felt overwhelmed, there was simply too much to take in at once. He acknowledged the feeling as it rose, allowing it to rest in his heart as he took in all he could. His translator slowly pieced together written translation of the tumult, their words scrolling across his ocular. The delay was frustrating, but could not yet be helped. They talked about him as one not present. An inconvenience. Or, concerningly, perhaps as a tool to gain what they want. There was curiosity too, though. Perhaps that had potential to grow into friendship.

Ryder told him he could leave his things here in the cargo bay. He set down the bundle, considered a moment, and chose to part with his Lanat as well. A strong gesture of peace, leaving the weapon—and if he did have to fight, his firaan would be far more useful in these close quarters anyway.

He hung back, behind the Pathfinder, as they started moving.

One of the other humans came alongside Ryder. This one’s head covering was the orange of elmohk blossom trumpets. She gave him a hurried greeting, which his translator failed to entirely piece together, before addressing Ryder. He noted that her voice was higher than the other humans. “Ryder, I know you’ve had a bit of a day, but did you perchance get me any samples while you were out there? Some plants, maybe a rock?” 

“Sorry, Suvi…” Ryder replied, “I didn’t think it’d be respectful to—”

“Oh! Give me your shoes!” Suvi interrupted, legs bending improbably beneath her as she inspected the Pathfinder’s footwear. “I might be able to get some soil samples. What surfaces were you walking on?”

“I… Er, okay,” Ryder stammered. Jaal watched as Ryder took off her shoes and gave them to the delighted Suvi, who scurried off with them, still talking about soil samples.

“Uh..” Ryder looked at him sheepishly, shoeless. “So, that’s Suvi, our science officer. She’s…got a lot of enthusiasm.”

“I see.”

Ryder’s feet were still encased in some sort of cloth undersuit. Her toes wiggled. Her feet seemed to show some similarities to angara in skeletal structure, but with weight borne on the hocks as well as the foot. _She has no thumbs on her feet,_ he thought, staring at them baffled. _It amazes me she can walk like that._ He stowed the thought away to examine later. There would be stranger sights to come.

The ship seemed vast. Convoluted. He wondered how long it would take him to understand it. He caught a glimpse of the drive core through the engine room windows, felt it pulse across his skin through the low frequencies. It was as if they had captured Vaalon _,_ the brightest star in the Aya sky, and harnessed her here.

_It is…beautiful. I will have to see if they would allow me to learn how it works._

Another human appeared on the balcony as they ascended the elevator. “Ryder, still among the living!”

“This ship ready to fly, Gil?” Ryder asked.

“Psh, with how long you took out there?” Gil replied. His tone was something like mirthful, sarcastic. “I was about ready to give you up for lost and start gambling for your worldly possessions.”

“Get your own _Blasto undies_ , Gil,” Ryder said with equal sarcasm, brushing past him.

Gil stepped away as Jaal passed, and the good-humored smile the human wore no longer went to his eyes. _He is afraid of me,_ Jaal thought. He found he disliked the idea of these aliens fearing him.

“Kallo,” Ryder said to someone further ahead, “bring us into orbit.” He looked away from Gil. A tall, even slimmer figure hurried away from Ryder at her words. The narrow bunks he had seen on the derelict were making a good deal more sense now.

 “Jaal,” one of the blue humans addressed him, “Lexi, ship’s physician. While you’re here, would you have time for me to do a full biomedical scan?”

 _Um. No_. He stared at her for a beat, unsure how to respond to such a _vulgar_ request.

Ryder came to his defense. “Hell, Lexi. Ease off. He’s been on the ship five minutes.”

“Of course.” The doctor stepped away. “Ryder, you’ll show him where my office is in a while, alright? And I’ll expect you as well. I’ll need to check for any ill effects from exposure to a foreign biosphere.”

Ryder sighed, expression rueful. “That’s Doctor Lexi T’Perro, ship’s physician. She’s… also enthusiastic.”

“I see.”

_This is going to be more challenging than I imagined._

_***_

They were arguing about him.

Through the viewports, Aya was growing smaller and smaller as they ascended. _No going back now. Not that there ever was a time to turn back. I’ve committed._

He had chosen the quietest, darkest seating in the room. He acknowledged this, and the feelings behind it--he was still seeking the security of a hiding place, following the ingrained impulse to go unseen, unknown, until it was time to strike at one’s foes.

He considered again Evfra’s advice at their hasty briefing. Loitering in the shadows did tell them something about him, but they seemed too enamored with crushing the Pathfinder under their complaints to notice. Unless this was all a ruse of some sort, but his intuition said otherwise. He resolved to two things: to guard his heart, and to trust it. He put faith in his intuition, and looked for what was important, what was true.

They had gathered in the meeting room, the aliens arrayed around the table. They barely seemed to notice him, so focused as they were on bickering. Ryder had been confronted by the other pale human. This one was called ‘Harper,’ or sometimes ‘Cora,’ depending on the speaker, and was the one with the whitish headcovering. All the humans he had seen so far wore some form of headcovering made of shaped threads; he could only guess as to the garment’s significance. Perhaps the color and shape were indicative of faith, like the painted patterns his own people used, or perhaps it indicated rank, or family status, or some other, alien significance.

This Cora, she had hissed words quickly to Ryder, too quickly for the translator to catch initially, but the program had slowly put together her meaning. She felt that Ryder had been unwise to allow him to board their ship. The ship, the Pathfinder, and something called _saam_ , were all too valuable to expose freely to a foreign agent. Cora, he gathered, was lecturing Ryder on avoiding recklessness, and pursuing caution: an alien mirror of his own briefing with Evfra.

They rejected his efforts to help them as too risky, but directed their complaints at the Pathfinder, as if she was responsible. _They speak as if my choice to accompany them, to assess them and, maybe, to build a bridge between our people, was not my choice at all._  

 _Fractured_ , _that is how they appear, how they are._ His heart had been sinking steadily as it became more and more clear. Three generations of angaran history had shown, beyond doubt, that only unity could resist the kett effectively.

Jaal flinched as the ship’s engine spiked, a strong pulse across the lower frequencies. He noticed none of the aliens so much as blinked. _Are they so inured to it? Or…perhaps their senses work differently._ They did all seem very…flat, in their energy fields. He considered how that might affect communication. The prospect was…more than a little daunting. Thankfully, his translation program had now been exposed to enough of their words to… _mostly_ keep up with the alien’s conversation.

“So, did you find the vault?” one of the blue ones asked, this one with dark markings over her eyes. She bounced eagerly on those strange legs of hers. _How do they even stay upright_?

“No” Ryder replied.

“No?” the other responded. Her tone was incredulous, appalled.

“Peebs,” Ryder responded tersely, “I was a little busy.”

“Busy finding us a babysitter,” cut in one of the humans, the one who had shown such enthusiasm when Ryder returned alive. This one they called Liam. “Did you even accomplish anything out there?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Ryder replied, affronted. “I made first contact with the angara.”

“And got us exactly _nothing_ we came here for. We didn’t go crashing through the scourge to get kicked off the vault,” replied the blue one, this ‘Peebs.’ “What happened? I wanted to look around!”

 _So eager to delve into secrets_ , he thought. He knew that feeling well. _But the reaction came with so little regard for angaran security, or desires, or say in the matter. Selfishness_.

“And now we have another mouth to feed, whatever he eats,” the large, chitinous one said, turning those yellow, almost-angaran eyes towards him.

 _I brought my own food,_ he thought, mildly insulted. _I am considerate._

Now they all turned their eyes towards him. It appeared the mention of supply problems he might cause was what made them remember he was there at all.

 _Is that all they care about, then? How I inconvenience them? Is that all they have the capacity to care about? The problems they focus on are so… petty._ _They have encountered the kett, but they don’t really understand what they are capable of._

“Do the translators not work?” The kettlike one asked. Vetra, they called her.

“They work,” he replied, his tone and expression guarded.

“Come on everyone,” Ryder said, frustration clear in her voice. “Can we just all please try to… Just listen up.”

“Ryder,” said Cora, “we followed our best lead here, and now we don’t even have that.”

_They have so little faith in the one leading them. Strange._

_Alone on Aya, the Pathfinder was confident, well-spoken. With me standing beside her, a stranger, she was bold. Yet among her own allies, she is scattered and unsure. What could she do, what wonders could she achieve, if they had just a little faith in her?_

This was a chance for all of them, himself included, to prove themselves. This crew full of aliens, they weren’t evil, but they were not as great as he had hoped.

_Perhaps, if I believe in her, that will be enough for us both to succeed._

“Jaal has offered to do what he can to help us access the vault on Aya,” Ryder explained.

“How do we do that when we’re leaving the planet it’s on?” said Vetra. He had noted her contributions to the conversation tended to be very practical.

Ryder paused, unsure. “That’s… a fair point. Jaal?”

“Seriously?” Cora scoffed.

Liam pounded the table. _Passionate, that one_. “Settle down!” he shouted. “Ryder’s right. There’s an angara right here. Let’s hear from the new guy.”

_Will they even care? Can they care, as we do? Ryder seems to, but the others… The best place to start is the beginning. Let them understand the threat we all face._

He stood, and strode over to join them at the table, standing between Ryder and Cora. He spoke. “One day, about eighty years ago, the Archon and the kett arrived in Heleus, and the horror began.”

“They declared war?” Vetra asked. _Ironic, that the question would come from the one who most resembles kett._

“Nothing so easy to define… or fight,” he explained. He paused, considering whether to explain the betrayal of his people.

“The kett kidnap angara,” Ryder continued for him. “Their people disappear without a trace. What if they were us? What if they took Sid, Vetra? Or Drack, if by some miracle they captured Kesh? We need to stand against them.”

“Sure, kid. I’ll fight kett all day long, but that’s no plan,” Drack replied.

“We need to get into that vault,” said the blue one with the facial markings, the one Ryder had called ‘Peebs.’

“Surprisingly, I agree with Peebee. Our own mission has to take priority,” Cora said firmly.

Ryder’s expression conveyed she was really entirely done with those two.

“We have a plan. Er, kind of.” Ryder turned to him with a hopeful look. “Jaal?”

“The Resistance is stretched thin,” Jaal explained. “I was tasked with traveling to two of our worlds at our briefing this morning—and you will accompany me.”

“Because?” asked Liam.

_So thick. Can they intuit nothing? Or is the translator communicating so little?_

“Because then Evfra will see you as trustworthy,” he said, emphasizing every syllable. “You want that.”

“I get it,” said Cora. “Help us, or rather, help me, and I’ll vouch for you, right? Because Jaal wants inside Aya’s vault too.”

 _Not entirely right. She’s mistaken my desire for return of Moshae Sjefa as desire for the vault, whose key the Moshae happens to be. But, perhaps that’s close enough for now._ He remained silent, neither confirming nor denying her insight. He briefly outlined the two missions: aiding a science team on Havarl who were studying the remnant, or plunging straight into the midst of the ground war on Voeld to help someone caught in the middle.

When he finished, Drack was the first to speak. “Pathfinder,” he said, turning to Ryder, “it’s your call.”

Ryder appeared taken aback that they were no longer fighting her. “Okay. Yes. I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Maybe more like ‘optimism,’” Cora interjected.

Ryder ignored her. “Let me weigh the options. I’ll get back to you. But first: I don’t know about you all, but I thought I was going to die four times today, and Suvi just stole my shoes. I need a break. Have Kallo chart a course, see if we can find a gas giant to refuel at.”

The crew quickly dispersed, but Ryder lingered. “So… time to give you the tour?” she asked.

“I would prefer to explore the ship on my own.” _Caution._ _A guide always shows you what **they** wish you to see_.

“Ah, okay,” she stammered. “Just so you know, crew bunks, food storage, and toilets are forward, on the lower deck. Those might be important for you to discover sooner rather than later. And let me know if you have any questions.”

He nodded.

“These missions we’re helping you with,” Ryder asked, “is one more urgent than the other? Where would you like us to go first?”

  _She does not dictate, but…being a guide cuts both ways_. “My current mission takes priority.”

“Ah, right. Um. Which one is that?”

“Assessing you, and your crew.”

Ryder seemed to accept that with only a minor amount of frustration. She left him to explore the ship on his own.

 _Havarl is the likely choice_ , he imagined, _given these aliens’ fascination with remnant._ Privately though, he hoped that Ryder would turn away from that temptation, and decide to go to Voeld, to help his people.


	11. Adventures in Diplomacy

Masina stood outside the tech lab, debating. Her newest crew member, their alien envoy, after completing a very thorough exploration of the ship, had entered the room nearly an hour ago with all his things and hadn’t emerged yet.

After the meeting, Cora had pulled her aside to reiterate her disapproval. “ _What are you thinking, letting this foreign agent on the ship?_ ” she had scolded. “ _There’s too much riding on us to take risks like this._ ”

 _There’s too much riding on us to play it safe,_ Masina thought, though she’d not told Cora that at the time.

She considered the closed door before her. _How have I gotten myself into this one?_

 _Hopefully he’s not rewiring my ship. SAM,_ she subvocalized, _you would have told me if he was, right?_

 _“Yes, Ryder,”_ SAM replied. “ _The only alterations to the ship I have observed thus far include increasing the tech lab’s EMF shielding and reducing its temperature, which are both within the bounds of normal crew behavior_. _If he attempts to disassemble the Tempest, I will notify you immediately_ ,” SAM added wryly.

_Noted. Why’s he increasing the shielding?_

_“Unclear. However, I have observed he expresses small involuntary reactions to changes in the ships’ systems. Perhaps he is attempting to muffle sensory stimuli your body is unaware of?”_

_Great,_ she thought, _we’re making the envoy uncomfortable in ways we can’t even experience_.

“ _Though that is an accurate summary of the conclusion I postulized, it is at this point unverified,”_ the AI replied. “ _Alternatively, he may have been adjusting the settings to explore the purpose of the system controls_.”

 _Right._ _SAM_ , _I’ve got mixed feelings about the new guy. He stuck up for us, gave us this chance to prove ourselves, but he also seems very capable of making good on the whole kill-you-in-your-sleep thing._

_“I am capable of monitoring your exterior senses while you complete your sleep cycle. I will not let you be ambushed. Additionally, your quarters can be locked.”_

_Aww, thanks._ SAM was a subtle bodyguard. She wondered if he was inclined to be more protective now, after Habitat Seven. After Alek…

 _What would the real Pathfinder do?_ she asked herself, not intending to subvocalize to SAM. Alek Ryder would be sharp, analytical, with that stony professionalism she couldn’t hope to replicate. _Pretty sure there’s a warning label on my personnel file: Irreverent, sarcastic bleeding heart, do not allow within five hundred meters of delicate negotiations. Open my damn mouth and anything might fall out._

 _“Your negotiations with the angara have been fairly successful,”_ SAM observed.

 _SAM, my first words on Aya were a joke about spaceport security,_ Masina replied. _And it wasn’t even a_ good _joke._

 _“Your previous question was in error.”_ SAM told her. _“You are a ‘real Pathfinder.’ I am only capable of interfacing to our depth through certain implants, including the one you were fitted with. You were always intended to be a candidate to succeed your father.”_

 _And Dad always had a reason for everything he did,_ she told herself. _I’ve managed to muddle through this far, I suppose._

_Just keep muddling: Pathfinder words to live by._

She stepped forward, and the doors whooshed open. The angara turned to her, with that piercing stare of his. It appeared he’d been setting up a workspace here, and a sleeping pallet as well. He looked wary.

“So. Jaal.”

“So.”

“What’s your story? Tell me about yourself.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Well…” she said, taken aback, “why wouldn’t you?” Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You hiding something?”

“Maybe,” he replied, his tone sounding oddly unsure. “That… would only make sense.”

 _Great job, diplomat,_ she thought. But there was something about his tone. _It doesn’t quite sound upset, more like…_ “Are you… messing with me?”

“Possibly,” he stated. “What does that mean?”

“Uh, it’s an idiom. It means… you’re joking, trying to make me feel uncomfortable. Or maybe off-balance.”

“Ah. Then: no. Evfra instructed me to be cautions.” He wilted into himself a bit. “I’m… not very good at being cautious.”

 _Ah. I guess that makes two of us then,_ she thought. “I’ll try not to ask too much. And you can always not answer.”

“I know.”

“Right. So.” She glanced back at the pile of bedding behind him. “You comfortable in here?”

“I took it,” he answered. “It feels strange, staying with the others. They’re—You’re—aliens.”

“And your alien to us,” she replied, with momentary inspiration. “So there, we have something in common.”

“Ah. We can… look at it as… a place to start?”

“Got it.”

“Perhaps then,” he ventured, “if we are all alien, it’s about what kind of alien we are.”

 _He really had no idea about us when he volunteered to come aboard._ She felt the compulsion to thank him again. _Hopefully with fewer death threats in response this time_. “You had no idea about us, but you signed up to help us anyway.”

“Perhaps it had nothing to do with you,” he responded.

“Oh?”

“I have… certain dissatisfactions that I’d like to leave behind. They’re quite personal.”

_Well, he clearly doesn’t want to talk about that. So. Awkward pause number one._

“How do you know the Moshae?” she asked.

“Moshae Sjefa is our greatest mind on the remnant. I was her student.”

“You studied the remnant too?”

“Hm, a little. I was terrible. I quit,” he said fondly. “Or she threw me out. One of those. We’re still very close.”

 _Purposefully vague, okay. Awkward pause number two. I should get a punch card. Three more and I get a free ice cream._ But he didn’t seem uncomfortable with her questions yet, so she continued, fishing for more information, something that could help them form some kind of connection.

“So… Is that your rifle?”

“It is now. It’s kett. With my own modifications. I like to tinker. To… get my hands on something, and take it apart.”

“That’s a skill I know we can use. But I have one request.” He hung on her words with earnest concern. She smiled, and spoke. “Please don’t take apart my ship.”

He laughed, and for a moment, she had a glimpse of someone charming and genuine.

“You’re right,” he said warmly, after his laughter faded. “I signed up, um, volunteered, for this. It’s… exciting. There’s something unique about you—uneasy, raw—but…  somehow profound.”

“That sounds like a compliment” she said. “A nice one.”

“It is. Angara feel deeply. We have more trouble—” He laughed, at himself perhaps, and how easily his wall had cracked. “--hiding our emotions than showing them.”

 _This is the real Jaal. And all that cold, brusque attitude is a façade_ , she thought. _To keep him safe, if we’re a threat._ _He must feel awfully alone here._

“Hey, Jaal? I… want to tell you something.” She paused a moment, gathering the words for what she wanted to express. “Humans, like me--we’re pretty new to this. When my parents were born, we hadn’t even left our home star system, much less made contact with other species. When I was a kid, my family was part of the first group of human ambassadors to the Citadel, this big space station that’s the capitol of government for all the Milky Way species. My brother and I were the only human children on the station for a while.”

“That is… interesting,” he replied. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I know that there’s a lot of people in the Initiative. A lot of different peoples. And it can get overwhelming sometimes, but I’ve been there, and I’d like to help.”

“You believe that because your people are less familiar with the other races of your Initiative, that you may help the angara become… more familiar?”

“Uh, well when you put it that way… Look, I don’t know where you’re coming from, what your culture is like, but I’d like to help you come to know us, if I can.”

“Mh. I will keep that in mind.”

 He wore that same little expression from the docks. _Now that I’m not afraid for my life…it looks like a quiet little smile._ _Lieutenant Turquoise_ , she thought warmly, _I think you’re going to fit in here just fine._

***

 _This has been the longest, strangest day in Heleus yet,_ Masina thought, finally returning to her quarters. She sunk onto the overlarge diplomat’s couch that dominated the room and set her omni-tool to record.

“Hey, Bro. So, I just made first contact! And it went really well! They’re called the angara. They’re ridiculously gorgeous, and they’ve been sticking it to the kett for a while now, they’re kinda pros at it.

“I also kinda almost crashed the Tempest into the kett leader. Real peace of work, that guy. ‘I am Archon, you are too stupid to talk to me, rah bah bah.’  No big deal, I cussed him out and Kallo and SAM lost him in the scourge. We were only a _little_ on fire when we found Aya.

“They’re good people, bro--the angara, I mean, not the Archon--he’s a bastard. They… Aya is a garden world hidden in the scourge. It’s the safest place in their empire, their sanctuary. And here I am, unannounced, _on fire._ They could have just let us crash out in the wastes. Would have been safer, easier too. But they didn’t.

“They sent an envoy to join our crew. The kett showed up on their doorstep about eighty years ago, all smiles and sunshine, and then stabbed the angara in the back. So, he’s here to figure out if we’re evil bastards too, and probably to kill us all and take our ship if we are.

“I’m trying not to worry about it. I know we’re not like the kett: if we just be us, we’ll be fine. At least, that’s what I’m going with for now. If it gets me killed, you can thrash me for it later.

“So, we’re helping him with a couple of missions in angaran space, to prove we’re not Evil Alien Invaders, and then they’ll let us in the Aya vault. That’s the plan, which means, of course, that what actually happens will be entirely different. I’m guessing we’ll end up trying to rescue their Moshae, who is, as I understand, the angara’s collective badass science grandmother.

“The envoy--his name is Jaal—I said sent, but it was more of a… not even volunteered. He suggested the sending of an envoy and himself to do it in the same breath. I think he wants to take a chance on us. He’s cautious, like I would be in his place, but every once in a while, there’s a crack in that wall, and I get a glimpse of someone optimistic and warm. Either he’s a very bad spy, or an absurdly good one. I’ll keep you posted.”

She ended the recording, filed it alongside the other logs she had recorded. Her brother would want to catch up on everything that had happened once he woke up. Enele had been in a coma for two weeks when they left Eos. She counted out the hours since then. It would be seventeen days by now, almost eighteen. Surely he was going to wake soon. He had to be. 


	12. Armor and Apologies

Pas-33 orbit, Sabeng System.

Masina ran a scan of her assault rifle, now with a proper heat sink installed. _Who ever thought thermal clips were a good idea? Look, let’s take guns back a century to the good old days of ammunition!_ She turned the gun over and took a glance at each side, admiring the lines. It was a Milky Way design, but she’d been able to incorporate some remtech modifications. _Should show the old man. Wonder what he has to say about damn thermal clips._

She slid down the ladder to crew quarters. The rumble of the old krogan’s voice was unmistakable. “Been a while since I encountered a new friendly species. Last time was the humans.”

“Oh yeah.” Vetra’s stereo voice. “You lived through first contact with them, didn’t you?”

_And the Morning War. And the uplifting and bondage of the drell. Batarians. Maybe some others. Old man should write histories._

“If I recall, my exact words were: ‘They’re bold for being so squishy. Do they know they’re mostly water?’”

“Harsh. Don’t let Ryder hear you.”

“Why, ‘cause I might agree?” She came in, grinning. “You ready for Voeld?”

“Born ready, kid. Looking forward to seeing how kett handle the cold, I wanna see if their blood’ll freeze before it hits the ground.”

 “The cold does have its upsides.” She offered the rifle to Drack for inspection. “Modified the heat sink to take advantage of the temperature. Should be able to fire ninety-three seconds solid before overheat.”

“Not bad,” he said, examining the gun. “Never liked the move away from heat sinks, call me old-fashioned if you like. Hate to leave a good fight to go feed my gun a damn heat sponge. Those guns don’t have the stamina for a _real_ battle.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

“Just make sure _you_ don’t freeze out there, Ryder,” Vetra added. “We can’t all be tough as this relic.”

“Don’t worry, Vetra,” Drack said. “If Ryder gets frozen solid, I’ll be sure to drag her home.”

Ryder adjusted the gun, folding it back into storage shape. “Liam’s working on an armor project with Jaal. Still need to check on the specifics, but I’m hoping it’s integrating some angaran warmsuit tech for initiative systems.”

***

As it turned out, Liam was **_not_** working on warmsuit tech. Ryder tried to clear the image of the angaran envoy’s exit from her mind.

 _Those legs though. Mm_.

 _Ryder, you’re a terrible person what the hell_.

 _This is insane. This is a diplomatic crisis waiting to happen. We’ve had contact with the angara for twenty-eight hours and one of my crew thought it would be a good idea to play strip trivia with their envoy._  

“Liam, what the hell?”

“Special project, right? You signed off on the requisition.”

“Liam, the codex entry for ‘diplomatic incident’? Pretty sure it has your picture on it. I thought you were working on our armor’s life support so we don’t all go into _fucking unsupervised cryo_ on Voeld. What the hell was the point of this?”

“If we don’t know what’s insulting or awful, we might accidentally trip on it. So, we look for it, on purpose,” Liam explained with infuriating calmness. “We know going in what’s gonna get us punched, keeps us from making a mess of it out in the field. If Jaal was offended, I’d be on the floor. I’ll take that kind of honest any day.”

“…He hasn’t put anyone on the floor, has he?” she asked. _What else has been going on without anyone telling me?_

“Not yet, and it’s not going to happen unless somebody deserves it. No misunderstandings.”

“Liam… this was a terrible idea. But, I can’t deny that it works. It sounds like something I would have come up with, though. Totally unprofessional.”

Liam laughed. “Gotcha.”

“Next time you have me sign off on a project, give me the full details, okay? And if I ever have to explain any of this to Nexus brass, you are so dead.”

***

 _I should go talk to him,_ she thought, _make sure he’s not taking this the wrong way._

The urge to rush upstairs and try to fix things warred fiercely with the urge to give him _plenty_ of time to dress. A panicked, anxious monologue ran in her head all the way to the tech lab. The doors were open, and Jaal was, thankfully, clothed again. She felt so afraid of mucking it all up, making things worse than they already are, but he’s seen her, and clearly expected her to say something.

_Better say something clever, Pathfinder._

_No, better say something honest, Masina._

_This never would have happened if Dad were still here_.

She took a deep breath. “Uh, Jaal? I wanted to… apologize, I guess.”

“Ah. For…what?”

“I didn’t check what Liam was doing,” she explained, “and I should have, I should have known exactly what he had planned. It’s my fault, and…I hope we haven’t offended you?”

“You are apologizing, because you think I might be upset. Because…you would be upset in my place?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Mm. You don’t need to. Liam’s request was…strange, but ultimately educational.”

“But your privacy!? You were… naked.”

“Yes? Is that a…what is it…big deal, to humans?” Jaal asked. “Mh. I am not ashamed of my appearance, rather the opposite.”

“Ah. No, not saying you should be ashamed, just…” she cursed, burying her face in her hands a moment, and sighed heavily.

“You have a great deal of doubt in your ability to lead effectively,” he observed matter-of-factly.

 _Right in one_.

“Why?” he asked.

 _He deserves to know_.

She dropped her hands and took a seat on one of the crates with a sigh. “I’m… not supposed to be here.”

He gave her a questioning look. “You…” he huffed a nervous laugh. “What?”

“The Pathfinder was supposed to be my father,” she explained. “He was a veteran soldier, highly respected, a master at what he did. He should have been the one to meet you on Aya. He should be leading this ship, not me.”

“Then, why is he not?”

“He… died,” she said, studying her palms. “On our first day here, in Andromeda.”

“Oh. Oh, I see.” His voice was heavy with compassion. “Was it the kett?”

“No, not exactly. There were kett there, but... It was our first time interfacing with remnant tech. There was an explosion, and my helmet faceplate was shattered. The air on that world was poison. Dad… gave me his helmet. He died, so I could be here. The last thing he ever did was transfer his title on to me.”

She went on. “We lost half his team on that mission, killed or injured. This crew I’ve put together isn’t anything like what he would have had.”  Her throat grew tight, her voice coming out tearful, restrained. “I’m doing the best I can, but me leading this crazy thing wasn’t the plan. You deserve better.”

Her words hung in the air between them a moment. Finally, Jaal spoke. “You grieve him.”

“Yeah.” She hung her head, studying the floor between her feet. _Stupid, to show weakness in front of a foreign agent like this. Cora will—_

He suddenly strode over to stand by her. _Can one loom in a comforting way? Because if you can, that’s what he’s doing._

“You fear you cannot fill the void of his loss, but you try anyway. That is…very brave of you.”

She looked up at him, surprised.

“I understand. I lost my father as well,” he said.

“Was he a soldier too?”

“No. He worked as a technician in a mine. He left for work one day and…never came home. The kett took him.”

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded. “Me too. It is hardest on the heart to lose someone without warning.” He paused, expression thoughtful, and not at all unkind.

“Thank you, for sharing this with me,” she said.

“Of course. And Ryder, I am still learning a lot, but so far…” That gentle little smile appeared again. “The only thing I am aware you are bad at is helping me be cautious.”

 


	13. On the Trail of Hope

{Voeld, Near Resistance Base.}

 _So,_ he thought as they drove away from the base through the icy canyons, _Ryder wants to prove herself by helping in the fight against the kett. Now we see if she actually can._

Gunfire at the mouth of the canyon. Resistance scouts engaging a kett patrol. The three leapt from the Nomad to join the fray. _Four clustered, perfect for a grenade._ He activated his cloaking device, preparing to strike unseen, when he felt a charge building in the Pathfinder.

_Humans don’t have electromagnetic abilities. What is—_

The air _snapped_ , and she was gone. A blue streak of light shot across the snow to the grouped kett, and Ryder reappeared in a burst of light and energy, tossing them across the snow like children’s toys. A wave of her hand lifted a kett into the air and slammed it into the rock wall; he saw its bony skull shatter at the force, smearing green across the stone. 

_…Oh._

The whine of a Soned spooling up. Ryder gestured, a disc of blue energy shielded her as she stepped into the spray. The flow of bolts was reflected back upon the kett that fired them, shredding it’s face into a green ruin. It fell.

_She hasn’t even drawn her weapon._

A kett foot soldier had fled the range of Drack’s shotgun, one side of its armor was charred and pitted from the burning flechettes. He felt the buzz of charge from Ryder again, and she let out a fierce cry as she _snapped_ across the battlefield. The force of her impact sent the kett flying over the edge of the cliff.

_She **is** the weapon. _

The kett were eliminated, and she hadn’t fired a single shot. She paused, _hovered,_ on the edge of the cliff a moment. Then the blue glow faded, and her boots crunched into the snow.

_We let her walk through Aya, through all those civilians. What could she have done, what carnage could she have wrought?_

“Hey, are you okay? Any injuries?” Ryder was helping one of the scouts to her feet. A smile passed between them.

“Only my pride” was the scout’s response. “Mostly.”

_And yet, she did not harm us. Not because she was powerless, but because she chose not to._

“Do you need help getting back to base?” Ryder asked.

“No,” the scout replied. “We know other paths, quick and narrow. We’ll be back faster than your vehicle would.” She paused, considering the alien. “We were trying to lead them away, lose them in the blizzard, but you can see how well that was going. They might have found our base if not for you. Now they are just another patrol lost in the storm. I… thank you.”

“Won’t be the last kett we kill today,” Drack interjected. “Come on kid, Vetra’ll have my ass if I let you freeze solid out here.”

“Stars guide you, alien.”

****

They got back in the vehicle. Drack was chuckling. “Those are some damn fine biotics. Why do you even carry a gun, kid?”

Ryder shifted the Nomad into gear. “Field testing, mostly. And double-taps.” She looked quizzically at the old warrior. “Why, you think I shouldn’t bother?”

“No, I think you’re bein’ smart,” Drack replied, patting his Ruzad. “You don’t know how many asari I’ve seen, think their biotics make them too good for a real weapon.”

“That fight was actually a little tricky. Angaran and kett mass signatures are pretty similar. Had to make sure to get eyes on my target, make sure I was grabbing the right ones.”

“That’s just good strategy.”

“I know, old man.”

They sailed down the snowy hills and across the deep blue ice towards the lights of Hjara Station. 

“You were never in any danger, were you?” he asked.

“Huh?” Ryder glanced back at Jaal, waiting for him to elaborate on the question.

“There were only nine of ‘em,” Drack offered. “So no, not really.”

“On Aya,” he continued. “You appeared unarmed, vulnerable, but: these _biotics_ you possess _._ You could have scattered our fighters, cast them aside as leaves on the wind.”

She slowed the vehicle, turning to look at him. Drack had tensed, watching to see how the Pathfinder would handle this.

He continued on, in horror, and wonder. “You say your people are desperate for a home. You could have attacked, killed our leaders. Your people might have taken Aya for their own. And you have not.” He stared at her, fear and hope warring in his heart. “Why?”

She met his gaze. “Why haven’t you killed us in our sleep and stolen our ship?” She raised a brow at him.

 _Because you have done nothing to deserve that._  “Ah.” He couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Very well, Ryder.”

Drack gave the Pathfinder an approving nod.

****

They observed the kett holding camp from the rise above, their vehicle hidden among the rocks. He counted twenty-three kett on patrol, with more possibly in the central structure, guarding half as many captives. For a Resistance squad of three, impossible odds, but after seeing Ryder’s biotics display, he believed it might just be a fair fight.

A pair of kett scout ships were passing overhead; when the T-shaped gunships had passed out of eyeshot, the three would strike.

When they had arrived at Hjara Station, Ryder had listened with compassion to a young man whose uncle, a Resistance operative named Niilj, had been captured. She had agreed to help without hesitation. She had lingered in the station a moment, seemingly only to assure herself that no others needed help.

Somehow, she had overheard one of the veteran scouts giving a lesson about proper sun exposure. She had asked him about _going dark_.

Evfra would not be happy to learn she knew of this weakness in angaran physiology, their need for the sun. The kett already used it against his people, keeping captives sunstarved and weak to ensure compliance. However, he felt there was little chance that Ryder would use this information similarly; when she learned of the angaran need for sunlight, she immediately expressed concern about the lights in his quarters, and offered to assist with their replacement immediately, even if it meant depriving Cora’s plants of their grow lights.

It was unnecessary of course; he had brought his own light, so as to not be dependent on aliens. That and a sunsilk rofjinn ensured he would retain his charge nigh indefinitely. Still, her reaction spoke well of her, one more piece of evidence that he was not a fool for giving these aliens a chance to prove themselves. 

The kett ships had passed over into the mountains to the north. It was time.

Ryder moved first, a streak of light across the complex, scattering the kett wherever they were gathered. Drack charged through the lower levels, his war hammer shattering bone and armor alike. Those kett that fled the aliens’ initial assault, dazed and wounded, were easy prey for a quick and silent angara.

 _I was wrong_ , he thought with a smile, as he moved on to the next kill. _It isn’t a fair fight at all._ He took pride in the trail of cooling kett bodies left in their wake. Every kill was one fewer kett to bring pain to his people, each fallen kett a tiny victory for the angara.

He felt a new energy signature from the human, and Ryder was the eye of a whirling storm of stolen supply crates around her, knocking kett asunder.

Ryder and Drack were brutally effective against the kett. Exhilarating as this was though, his alien allies were far from surgical. _Need to take kett communications offline before one gets away and calls for help_.  He cloaked and slipped across the battlefield to enter the central building.

A kett chosen died at the comms console, his firaan through its spine. He shoved the body aside to examine the console. He had been too late, reinforcements would be on the way. 

He called to his alien allies. They had to hurry.

They moved up, to the holding cells where they kett kept his people.

“Want me to hack it?” Ryder asked

“No,” he replied, as he knelt at the base of the cell and began hurriedly prying off panels. Kett encryption was both strong and esoteric. “A bypass is faster.” He quickly pried open the last access panel and started working.

 “Can’t we just shoot it?” Drack asked gruffly.

 “ _No_ ,” he answered, just a little tersely, as he moved from one open panel to another. “Removing power would cause the energy field to collapse; it would kill everyone inside. I must trick it into thinking it’s been opened legitimately.”

“Well damn,” Drack grumbled.

His allies stood at his back, guarding him as he worked.

 _Just need to detach this, give the port a charge to think it’s still connected while I splice this here_.

The whine of approaching kett gunships filled the air.

He cursed. The ships would be raining down plasma fire in moments. They would be shredded so exposed--and he had been so close to opening the cage!

“Keep going, I’ve got you,” Ryder said. She stood boldly to face the kett, flaring with energy as the ships began their strafing run.

It was crazy to think she could deflect such blows. Even the best EMF artists among the angara couldn’t hope to produce a shield strong enough. Yet, in that instant, he found he believed she could. He turned from the approaching gunships back to the tangle of kett technology.

Plasma bolts crashed across Ryder’s shield as swiftly, somewhat frantically, he completed the last three steps of the bypass. With one last pulse of energy, the cell’s containment field came down.

As the kett ships circled around for another strafing run, the allies rushed to the cover of the bunker, freed captives picking up the weapons of fallen kett as they could. Jaal put in a frantic call for Resistance air support as a few long-range bolts struck against Ryder’s shield behind them.

Ryder and Jaal were the last into the bunker. She nearly collapsed against him as she dropped the shield, exhausted. He steadied her, helping her lean against a darkened kett console.

From outside came the sound of angaran air support catching their antagonists unaware and tearing the heavily armed, but fatally slower kett ships apart.

The mission was a rousing success. He reported in to their air support a message that would be relayed back to Commander Do Xeel. A dozen angara rescued, nearly twice as many kett slain, no allied losses. A good day indeed.

In the time it took for him to send the message, Ryder appeared to have collected herself; she had produced some sort of food bar from one of her utility pouches and was tiredly gnawing it.

Niilj approached them and offered his thanks to Jaal and his odd alien companions. “Well, I’ll take a rescue no matter how strange the rescuer. I doubt we would have made it more than a few days longer.” He shot a look at one of his companions. “No thanks to Eraana’s jabs,” he added.

“If the kett can’t handle being mildly insulted, that’s their problem,” Eraana piped up.

“You see what I mean?” Niilj said with a shrug. “We owe you. So, how’d you three end up finding us?”

“Your nephew sent a message to the Resistance asking for someone to take on a rescue mission,” Ryder explained. “He had the location, we brought the firepower.”

“Ryder,” Jaal said, turning to her, “This is _big_. Liberating key resistance agents, recovering vital data. You’ve put many doubts about you to rest.” _Including many of my own._ It was… exhilarating, to fight beside her. He felt a certain amount of awe at the impact she had on the battlefield, and might yet have on the war. “There is a QEC link at the resistance base, a direct line to Evfra. You should speak with him as soon as possible” _Surely now Evfra will allow us to attempt a mission to rescue the Moshae._

Eraana cut in to explain that they have a captured kett data drive. “It has valid encryption keys for the kett command center, but they won’t stay valid for long.”

“My squad needs medical attention and debrief, Niilj explained. “It seems we’ll need to ask our rescuer for more than a rescue.”

Ryder seemed heartened to hear she’d earned another chance to convince Evfra, but she still insisted on taking the information to Buxil at Daar Techiix. She would see this through. “I’ll crack open the damn command center myself if we need to,” Ryder said, accepting the data core. “You didn’t get captured for nothing, Niilj.”

***

Ryder ate a truly staggering amount of nutrient bars on the ride over, while he arranged a rendezvous with Buxil, the codebreaker. She explained something about biotics using a lot of energy, making them vulnerable to energy crashes and starvation. Useful knowledge. She seemed to recover quickly, once the food was in her.

Buxil met them at the mouth of Techiix’ caverns. She debriefed them on the command center, giving the aliens a lay of the land. He quietly observed Ryder’s eyes grow wide with interest as Buxil pointed out two remnant monoliths as landmarks to the path around the mountain.

“Use the river for cover until you pass the first monolith, then aim for the second at the base of the mountain,” Buxil explained. “Steam from the hot springs should hide your vehicle from kett spotters. After that, you’re on your own.”

“Just two monoliths?” Ryder asked.

At her inquiry, Buxil confirmed there was a third, but it was outside their route and exposed to kett spotters.

They headed back out towards the Nomad, into the howling storm.

“Jaal,” Ryder said, peering up through the sheets of whirling snow, “what would it mean for the angara if the storms stopped?”

_That the yevara had sung the sun into the sky. That I am truly living in one of the old tales._

“The lack of cover would impact both us and the kett, though we know the land better,” he answered. “It would mean we would not have to cling to our sunlamps or fear going dark. We could range farther, dare longer missions, be stronger against the kett.”

He continued. “Once, the storms parted over the ruins of Ahn Tekyt for six hours.  We took it, then. We held it for three months, recovered what was worth recovering.” He smiled. “Ah, and we left a glorious number of traps for the kett behind us.”

“It could change the war, give the advantage to the angara,” Drack confirmed.

“Then I have to try,” Ryder said.

“Try what?” Jaal asked. “You plan to attempt what you did on Eos, here?”

“I plan to _try_ ,” she confirmed. “There’s a chance, and that’s enough for me. We’ll activate the monoliths we can on the way to the command center.”

Drack grunted in approval. “Cut off the kett’s head, hit the kill switch on the storms: They won’t know what to do with themselves.” He turned a yellow eye to Jaal. “Warn the angara, make sure they’re ready to strike.”

***

The Nomad sailed over blue ice, yevara casting auroras beneath them, until they arrived at the foot of the first monolith. Warmer air flowed out of the ice cave at the monolith’s base, promising that the technology was not dead, only sleeping. He hurried on, eager to see if Ryder could indeed wake it.

A rumble and roar echoed through the cave. _I don’t think that was remtech._

The sound was their only brief warning, as an eiroch charged out to face them.

He called out the animal’s weak points to his allies. “Spread out, don’t let it face us all at once!” he shouted, scrambling over icy cover. “Aim for its sides!”

It seemed the krogan hadn’t heard him. Drack planted himself squarely in front of the eiroch, matching it’s bellowing with a roar of his own. A further blast from his Ruzad filled the eiroch’s face with innumerable flaming flechettes, and insured that Drack had its full attention.

Drack’s tactics were… _far from angaran_ , but Jaal was nothing if not adaptable. He used the eiroch’s distraction to dart in and plant a sticky grenade on its gills, so close he could feel the heat roll off the creature.

Ryder had come around to flank the eiroch from the other side, and was using a gun for once, the beast’s massive weight too great for even her biotics.

The beast staggered with the blast from the grenade, channeling its pain and rage into a heavy strike against the krogan. But the old man seemed unfazed by the blow.

The eiroch opened its mouth and bellowed in rage at the krogan, raining the old man with heat and spit. Drack put two shotgun blasts to the roof of its mouth, stepped forward, and…

 _Ah, so that’s why the gun’s blades are shaped that way_.

Drack pulled his gun from the creature’s mouth, the Ruzad’s blades dragging a blue mass of eiroch brains with it. The corpse tumbled to the ground.

“You alright, old man?” Ryder called.

“Best fight I’ve had in a while, Drack replied, shaking the eiroch gore from his weapon.

Jaal examined the fallen eiroch, confirming that all neuroelectric activity had indeed ceased.  “Unfortunate, to have to kill such a creature in its den,” he said. “The kett do not respect them, thus eiroch cause far more casualties to the kett than to us.” 

Ryder pressed ahead, searching for an interface point. He sent a quick message with word of their kill to Techix. The daar’s foragers would ensure nothing of the creature would be wasted.

He had seen many remnant consoles in his life, but almost always inert, unresponsive. Ryder stretched her hand over the console, and the device awoke, filling the chamber with electromagnetic patterns. They whispered against his skin, filled with words he could not quite decipher. They filled the air with patterns he could not quite follow, describing the shape of ideas that just barely eluded his grasp.

And Ryder interfaced again, and the patterns _moved_. It felt like… he let out a laugh in wonder. It felt like _thought_ , like being inside a brilliant, impossible mind, feeling vast thoughts float by and come to a great and satisfying conclusion.

The energies aligned, and the monolith hummed to life.

Excitement and awe ran fast through his heart to see the ancient technology come so easily to life. Secrets his people had spent centuries trying to unlock now beckoned.

But remnant technology had been there for centuries, and would surely stand for centuries more. First, they must deal with the kett. The command center awaited.

***

Another monolith awoken and a long and perilous drive up the frigid mountain pass behind them, the three arrived at the mouth of the kett command center. They had faced little kett resistance—he suspected Buxil had requested angaran air support to distract kett spotters, draw attention away from them. He had noticed a few of their ships himself, dancing just out of range of kett anti-aircraft guns. From the command tower above, the three of them could shut down the base’s defenses, allowing the angaran shuttles to descend on the base. The trick was getting there.

No captives here, for good or ill. Just waves and waves of kett forces called to their location by the croaking alarms.

Ryder shot ahead, a streak of light painting constellations across the command center as she darted from foe to foe. Drack lumbered behind, moving from cover to cover, teasing and taunting the kett toward him. Jaal worked to adapt to their combat strategies, to anticipate the movements of his allies and use them to his advantage. They were learning to rely on his responses as well. Ryder had moved even more to focusing on clustered enemies, leaving the stunned survivors and distant strays for Lanat and firaan.

Not that they were without missteps, he noted, as the kett he had been a second from ambushing was thrown across the battlefield by a charging Pathfinder. The Chosen skipped twice across the surface of the landing pad before finally coming to rest against a bulkhead, neck twisted at an improbable angle. He let out a short sigh, ducking behind cover to let his cloaking device recharge before he sought out another target. 

They moved up across the complex, sowing mayhem for the kett wherever they went. They entered the hangar where a dozen kett scout ships stood empty, hooked up to refueling lines. Their pilots had returned to assist in the base defense, setting their ships to refuel in a display of mindless kett efficiency. A well-placed explosive set the fuel tanks alight, sending fire rushing through the fuel lines to turn the kett ships into roaring conflagrations.

Ryder was pacing herself now, using her biotics more sparingly; he suspected she had not recovered as much from her overexertion earlier that day as she had led them to believe. Her determination to help his people, even as it drained her own, personal resources, he found deeply admirable. He hoped that she had enough left in her to see this mission through, for all their sakes.

As they rose on the elevator that would take them to the control hub of the entire command post, Jaal was struck by a revolting sensation crawling across his skin. An electromagnetic field: it was loud, jagged, completely undampened. _Ascendant._ The kett elite could produce a shield that absorbed weapons fire, then emitted it back as slow, ponderous plasma fields capable of overloading electronics and angaran senses alike.

“Get to cover!” he shouted, as the elevator opened before them with an eruption of orange plasma.

Jaal frantically shouted instructions to his allies on how to face this new threat as he was trying to move to a better position. He could have sworn he saw Ryder move _through_ the kett in a blaze of biotic energy.  As with the eiroch, they split up to flank, Jaal to the left, Ryder to the right, Drack holding center.

Ryder flared with biotic energy, and the Ascendant’s orange corona flickered with twisting veins of blue. She was trying to slow down the Ascendant’s darting shield generator, backing up its energy flow until it overloaded, shattering the shield.

He was ready for it. Lanat bolt through the eye of the Ascendant, a perfect headshot.

Tired yet triumphant, they shut down the facility. As the antiaircraft guns went offline, he signaled for Resistance air support to move in.

Buxil met them on the landing pad. “You made that look easy.”

“We’re a good team,” Ryder replied, sending an approving glance towards Drack and himself.

He nodded in return, his heart rising with new emotion. _This is no longer just about hope for survival, for the angara to struggle through day by day to some distant sometime,_ he thought. _It’s a greater, stronger, hope. A mighty hope. She and her team are going to do great things, and I am fortunate enough to be part of this, a needed part._ He would sort through it all later, meditate. What is thought without reflection? But this, this felt right. This new direction in his life was fantastic, and impossible, and he just might love it.

Buxil approached him. “There’s chatter on the coms,” she said, “about you and the aliens… doing something with the monoliths?”

“Ryder can work Remnant tech,” Jaal explained. “She hopes to bring us some sun.”

“Can she?”

“She’s activated two monoliths so far. I was with her. We must try.”

Buxil nodded. “May your luck build. Isharay.”

***

The vault was a wonder, filled with enough mysteries to last a lifetime. He had been within many remnant structures before. He had even entered the vault on Aya once, as a student of the Moshae. Always before there had been locked doors, darkened access points that refused to respond despite their greatest efforts. Always the structures had slept, chiming their strange dreams across the electromagnetic spectrum. But they awoke at Ryder’s gesture, each and every one. It was a feat no angara known had ever achieved, not even Moshae Sjefa after her ninety years of studying the ancient technology.

Ryder, this vesoan from a civilization almost incomprehensibly far from his own, walked through the structure as though it were made for her. _How? Why?_ _Does she even know how profound her actions are?_

In some ways, it seemed Ryder was tinkering with the facility, awaking things to see how they each functioned, not so different from his own explorations of alien tech, though on a much larger scale.

This was what he’d _wanted_ it to be like, when he’d joined the Moshae’s students. Not spending months at a time on one console or device, but studying the systems, trying to understand the whole. As they scrambled across newly activated remnant structures, occasionally dealing with the dismay of the remnant constructs within, he recorded everything he could. When, _when_ they returned the Moshae to Aya, she would have much to study.

Ryder called their route as the facility moved around them. His heart had faith in her, while logic was muddled, unsure. And she had proved again and again today that she was worthy of his faith.

Even as they fled the scouring clouds that filled the vault, he had felt a flicker of biotic barriers around them. Ryder would see them through safe.

One wild dash, then up and out.

The storms had stopped, of course. Ryder accomplished what she set out to do.

And as they stepped out of the vault, into the fading light of Voeld’s setting sun and heavens dancing with aurorae, he looked at her.

Ryder, hovering with her biotics, as if to get that much closer to the beauty of the sky.

This woman had changed the face of the world. Many would gloat at such a feat, demand others see their power, their influence.

But on her face was simple wonder, taking joy in the beauty before her.

Though he did not know it at the time, an older, wiser Jaal would reflect that it was at this moment he began to love Masina Ryder.


	14. Return to Techiix

With the frigid Voeld night coming on, there was no time to travel all the way back to the Resistance Base. Jaal had made arrangements; the three of them would be welcome to stay in Daar Techiix for the night. Masina was thankful for his guidance, otherwise she might have driven right past the hidden daar, tucked into the mountainside and shielded by the steam rising from thermal vents through the ice. The daar’s smooth, curving lines blended with the snow and ice with such grace she could not entirely tell where nature ended and construct began.

As they pulled the Nomad into the mouth of the main daar entrance, she stole one last glimpse of the Voeld night sky. So many stars, almost as clear a view as seeing them from space, and the aurorae weaving and dancing below them in shades of green and white and gold.

Drack grumbled at her to get inside before she froze death. The vault’s activation had raised the temperature by a few tenths of a degree. SAM had informed her it was still steadily climbing at a rate of a few hundredths of a degree. _It will be a long time before Voeld is anything like balmy_ , she thought, picking her way along the path carved through the ice. _A good thing too, I suppose, with how many people’s homes depend on things staying frozen._

She followed the others past tarp-covered shuttles towards the daar proper. People rushed to greet them--Resistance soldiers or daar members, or both? —with smiles and congratulations directed mostly towards Jaal. He ducked his head, shying away from their praises, and was quick to defer congratulations to his companions.

An angaran woman approached them, holding an infant on her hip while she worked some sort of datapad with her free hand. She introduced herself as Saaskyr; she and her partner maintained the _arataan_ , a sort of guest house for visitors to Techiix. She lead them through the daar, chatting warmly.

The infant turned its wide blue gaze upon the aliens. _Oh lord, those eyes. And I thought the adults were compelling. I’m doomed. One look from those big blue kitten eyes and I’d do anything for the kid._ Entranced as she was by the infant’s adorableness, she nearly missed what the woman who held the little one had to say.

“Eight families live here in Daar Techiix,” Saaskyr explained as they walked through the daar. “It makes for a village of around six hundred angara.” Masina saw families, kids, working towards the war effort. Children cleaning guns, acting as squires for the lookouts coming in from their shift. Still some angara observed them with wary glances, or more overt displays of discomfort at the sight of aliens in their home, but fewer than there would have been even this morning. 

They passed a clearing on the ice where the angara formed a sparring ring. A pair of men fought to the cheers of a crowd. She observed their combat abilities with interest. _The turning radius of the hip, the way their whole body moves into their blows--pretty sure a punch like that could take my head off._

Masina turned from her observations as the infant started fussing. Saaskyr hummed to them, adjusting her grip on the child. That was when Masina realized the arm holding the child ended with a stump.

Saaskyr caught her look of surprise. “Oh, noticed my battle scar?” she said with a grin, adjusting her grip on the child to show the stump more clearly. “Lost it to a wraith. It thought it could catch me unawares. Rammed my fist right down its throat. It snapped down on me, but I had the last laugh—my hand strangled it to death from the inside.”

Drack snorted. 

“All right, alien. You got me. Really, I lost it when I put a grenade down the exhaust port of a kett ground vehicle. I mostly got away. The kett didn’t.”

Masina smiled as she caught on. Saaskyr must have a hundred stories for curious outsiders. “Are you sure it wasn’t a shark attack?”

“Might’a been,” Saaskyr replied. “Depends on what a shark is.”

“Big water predator, from my homeworld. Very dangerous, could have eaten everything under the ice if you hadn’t wrestled it to death first.”

“Ah yes, that was the one. Big nasty creature, all teeth and… fins, and… tentacles?” The woman laughed. “Better be careful, Jaal. She does catch on quick, this one.”

Saaskyr helped them settle into the daar’s guest lodgings. The building was small, just roomy enough for a few cots and a sunlamp, but the relief of being out of the cold and getting to strip out of her hardsuit down to her underarmor was well worth it. She decided it was time to curl up under a too-big-for-humans blanket, scoot in as close to the sunlamp as she could without catching fire, and finally get properly warm.

The cave that held Daar Techiix was above freezing, but only just. Thermal vents, called _gesh asan vaon,_ by the angara, heated the daar with steam from deep below the surface of Voeld. SAM loosely translated the term to ‘hands reaching for the stars.” The formations appeared hydrothermic, but as someone who had _very_ recently been deep below the surface of Voeld, Masina suspected the source of the vent’s heat was decidedly artificial.

Saaskyr came back in, a pair of her children in tow, each holding some sort of ceramic vessel. “The sun is out all across dayside, and the Resistance is beating back the kett on all fronts. You’ve given us cause to celebrate!” Saaskyr smiled and set the vessels before them. “And the way we celebrate in Techiix is with some _real_ food.”

_Gift of a meal. Is it polite to accept, or should I decline to not look greedy? Or will declining insult my hosts, or—_

_Damn, that smells good._

She accepted the dish. “Thank you, Saaskyr. I’ve had more than my fill of nutrient bars for a while. It’s kind of you to share.”

“The helpings are generous thanks to you three,” Saaskyr explained, “and the eiroch you brought down at the foot of the monolith.”

Saaskyr turned away, her array of different tool prostheses swaying on her belt, and began conferring with Drack on the finer points of butchering an eiroch. As they discussed all the many and various ways the kill would be utilized, Masina began to examine the dish. The portion she had been handed seemed so very small. The bowl was indeed heaping with stew, but the vessel was only a little smaller than a standard coffee cup. She noted Jaal’s portion was the same amount.

She considered the contents of the bowl. _Blueish brown chunks of eiroch meat, mixed with slices of red and brown …fungus? Fungus. And flat, plum-colored noodles made out of…some sort of algae?_

She scanned the dish, trying to be as discreet about it as one can with a large military-strength scanner. Nothing came up as toxic.

“ _The red fungus contains several compounds known to produce a laxative effect in humans,”_ SAM commented helpfully.

_Right, so, avoiding those._

She delicately picked around the parts of the dish a human shouldn’t eat, trying to be at least somewhat subtle about it. The utensil, a sort of two-pronged fork, was thankfully easy to work with. Tentatively, she tried a few bites.

_Eiroch meat tastes somewhere between pork and crab. Really rich. Damn if those ugly behemoths aren’t delicious._

_The seaweed noodles are… ugh, **strong**. Very spinach-y. I’m sure they’re very good for me, but damn. _

_Red mushrooms are not allowed here, go away._

_Brown mushrooms are also strong, but kinda sweet? Sort of like hazelnut cream, if hazelnuts tried to beat you across the face with their flavor._

As she ate, she listened to the chatter from outside: laughter, banter, arguments. The whole daar interacted together as comfortably close-knit as her family back home. Far more comfortably, if her immediate family was considered.

Was this unique to Techiix, she wondered, or were most angara like this? After their host left to attend to other matters, she resolved to mention it to Jaal.

“Your people seem so open and free with their feelings,” she said.

“Are we? Hm,” Jaal paused to consider his next words. “We’re certainly not ashamed of our feelings. We’re taught that feelings and beliefs should live on the outside, where they can be dealt with, honestly and, openly.”

“Don’t people get hurt?” she asked.

“Of course,” Jaal replied. “Then everyone deals with it. That’s the point.”

Drack rumbled an approval. “Good to see somebody else in this universe gets that sometimes you just gotta punch out your problems.”

“Yes. Though, for us, punching is…not _always_ involved.”

Drack and Jaal continued chatting. Masina listened, learning more little bits and pieces about each of them. _I wonder what the impact will be of me bring Drack on this mission._ The old man was by far the most experienced of her crew in fighting kett, Jaal excepted. She had tapped him for the mission because she trusted and valued his skills. _But the pathfinder team is more than just a fighting force, isn’t it?_ _We’re making history in Heleus, no matter what we do._ _Choices like who to bring, who will be the face of the Initiative to our allies, those choices matter._

What would this day, seeing this squad, mean for the angara? For the krogan _?_ Of all the Initiative in Andromeda today, Clan Nakmor were the ones most seeking a new start, a chance to thrive free of the prejudices of the old galaxy. Prejudice the angara did not know to hold against the krogan.

Tann would not neglect to think about the political impact of her choice in squadmates. She would bet her non-existent paycheck that he’d be giving her a rambling lecture as soon as he read her mission report, politely castigating her for not upholding the status quo.

Jien Garson would have been proud.

In the morning she would speak with Evfra. She hoped she had managed to prove herself not only worthy of trust, but as a friend to the angara. And with the kett blinded and exposed, there would be no better time to attempt a rescue.

She set her bowl aside and wondered how much could one person might really be able to do to shape Heleus.

In time, Jaal moved on to cleaning his rifle. His conversation with Drack faded, and the ancient krogan started breathing out wheezing snores.

She bundled herself in her mound of blankets onto the cot closest to the sunlamp. SAM gave her a series of updates on the status of the Tempest and the Nexus, some to her omni-tool, most directly through their personal channel. _QEC links and tightbeam routers, bringing the vital stats of the Initiative straight into my brain. Thanks SAM._

 _“I am merely fulfilling my secondary objectives, Pathfinder. You are welcome.”_ SAM replied.

Masina was interrupted from her contemplations by the sound of someone entering the lodgings. Peering around the doorjamb with big, captivating blue eyes was a tiny angaran child. She didn’t know much about angaran child development, but the little one didn’t look much older than the infant that had rested on Saaskyr’s hip. The child obviously had no reason to be toddling into the guest lodgings, save perhaps curiosity.

The child crept inside on wobbly legs _. Legs even wider-set than the adults. Adorable, stumbling gait not so different from a human toddler. Mantle is proportionately much bigger than the adults, extends further down the back, clothing cut to expose it--children more dependent on sunlight? Matching gloves and booties, with the same little patterns embroidered on them, tied onto his clothes with strings to keep them from getting lost in the snow._

The child toddled right up to Jaal and tugged on his rofjinn. “Hello. I saw your rifle. Are you with the Resistance?”

“Yes, _keshaara_ ,” Jaal replied, helping the child up to sit next to him. He followed the child’s gaze and pulled out his rifle to show the child. “It’s mine now. I took it from the kett. Now, it kills them.”

“Wow,” the child said, patting the barrel. “My brothers said you helped make the storms go away. How did you do that?”

“With help from our friends here. The sleeping one is called Drack, and her name is Ryder.”

Ryder wiggled a hand out of the blanket pile and waved at the child.

“She has funny hands,” he giggled.

“Imagine how strange we must look to her,” Jaal replied.

The child paused, considering his own mittened hands a moment, enraptured by the thought. When the child tired of considering the vagaries of alien hands, he turned back to Jaal. In a small voice, he asked “Gosavar, do you know Mrrach?”

“I do not,” Jaal answered, setting his rifle aside. “Tell me about them.”

The little one eagerly, if a bit awkwardly, began to explain. “He’s my favorite cousin. Mrrach tells the best stories! He goes out on digs and find out secrets in the ice. He’s really brave, like you must be.” The strings on the child’s glove fastenings whipped about as he gestured wildly. “And he makes the best garpana in the whole everywhere!”

“The whole everywhere?” Jaal echoed, gently retying the child’s glove fastenings. “That would be quite memorable. Your cousin sounds very impressive.”

“Yeah, I know.” The child fidgeted with the edge of Jaal’s rofjinn a moment. “Mothers say he’s missing. Maybe he joined the Resistance and didn’t tell anybody, or went on an adventure down in the ice? He’s in big trouble with his favorite cousin, for staying away so long. You tell him that, if you see him, okay?”

The door opened again, and a pair of teens came in, each already much taller than Masina but still with a great deal of filling out to do to rival Jaal’s breadth. They explained that they were sent to gather used dishes and see if the guests need anything else for the night.

One of them scooped up the little one, fussing. “Olaon! There you are! You should be basking with the other little ones.”

“I _was_ basking! They have a sunlamp, see?” the child declared. He hastily clambered out of his brother’s grip to plop down with his back to the sunlamp. “I was basking and asking the Gosavar about Mrrach. They haven’t seen him either.”

The teens shared a worried glance. “Olaon… Mothers have told you, cousin’s gone.”

“Yeah, but he could still come back.”

The teens exchanged glances, their expressions worryingly grim. One knelt by the child. “Dear little olaon. The kett took Mraach, and his whole team. Nobody comes back from behind kett walls, little one. You need to accept this.” 

She saw the child’s big eyes grow wide and begin to tear up. His little face was set so stubbornly. “He’s coming back. You’ll see.”

_Oh, kid…_

Jaal spoke, his voice deep and warm. “Do not be ashamed to hope, _keshaara_. Hope is what keeps the Gosavara strong and clear. It is hard on the heart when someone you love is missing. I know; I have missing dear ones too.” He moved over to kneel by the child, who put his little hands on Jaal’s knee. “Your cousin sounds like he loves you very much, and would be pleased to know you are growing, even if he cannot be here with you now. What would he think, to see you carrying on so bravely each day?”

The child studied his hands a moment, then looked up at Jaal. “He’d say he was proud of me.”

“Then, carry that with you,” Jaal said, “and your thoughts of him will keep you strong.”

 A little smile appeared on the child’s face. “And he’d say I’m doing a good job keeping my big brothers in line.”

Jaal chuckled, brushing a hand over the child’s head fondly. “Our alien friends here have changed many things. Many things have happened today that yesterday seemed quite unlikely. We shall see who might be returned from kett walls. I have hope that capture doesn’t mean forever.”

Drack let out another rumbling snore. Jaal gently suggested the child head to bed. “The aliens, after all, are very tired.”

One of the teens gathered the little one up in his arms. “May your luck build, Gosavar,” he said as he turned away.


	15. Mister Kett’s Happy Fun Palace

 

Masina huddled next to the kett shield dome, searching for whatever shelter from the storm it could provide. The shuttle had gotten them as close to the kett facility as it possibly could without detection, but they had still had a bit of a hike. This region of Voeld read as even colder than the area around Techiix, and her suit’s life support was struggling. Even Drack had complained that his prosthetics weren’t doing well in this cold. Of course, he had reminded them the proper krogan parts of him were doing just fine.

The tech from Heckt’s team, Skealv, pried open an access panel and spliced in. “Alright SAM,” Masina breathed, connecting her own omni-tool to the hack, “let’s see what we can do.”

The moments dragged on as the AI worked. “C’mon SAM, you can do it. If we have to turn around with my suit like this, we might have a real problem.” And, in an undertone, she added, “Please don’t embarrass us in front of our new friends.”

A small hole in the shield opened, enough for their infiltration team to slip through. A chorus of warbling growls rose to meet them as they approached the facility walls.

_A pack of wraiths plus one biotic annihilation field equals piñata dogs,_ she thought with grim satisfaction, letting her biotics flare. One shattered vent later and they were stepping inside kett walls.

_SAM,_ she subvocalized, _by the time we leave here, I want to know everything there is to know about this place_.

The access tunnel behind the vent wound inside the walls before feeding out into a wide open room dominated by a massive hologram of the Archon. She spotted a handful of kett Chosen below, scooping piles of—trash? Some sort of detritus—into what looked like garbage compactors.

The hologram began a prerecorded speech, the Archon’s voice reverberating throughout the room. “Fortunate welcome. Enter, and embrace your greatness. New destiny is given--freely given. Your true life begins now.”

_Funny thing,_ Masina thought, as she prepared to drop down on the unsuspecting kett, _making your minions listen to your ego-stroking at max volume gives your enemies great sound cover to ambush them._

The kett were eliminated quickly and quietly. No alarms raised.

“I can’t believe I’m really here,” said Skealv.

“And, I bet, neither could they,” said Masina, gesturing to the fallen kett.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve watched places like this from the outside, wondering what’s here,” Owwin said. “To be standing here now…Heh, wait until I tell my brothers about this.”

“They’ll be so proud,” Jaal replied fondly, as the squad moved to examine the room.

Masina studied the piles of refuse the kett had been tossing into the compactor. Her stomach dropped as she recognized what she was seeing. _Angaran things. Clothing, all different sizes and cuts. Food containers, with signs of sharing across many individuals. Ornaments. Personal items. A rofjinn with many names stitched into the seams-a family heirloom. These would not be left behind by choice._

The others of the squad came around her, also examining the piles. Remnants of the disappeared.

She carefully moved items aside, struggling to fathom the number of lives represented here. Something slipped from the pile _._

_A datapad--someone had been able to keep a journal._

“…Benjji and Stalla and I were on a dig when we were captured. They took us to a holding area and did a bunch of tests on us. Blood and skin and scans…”

“…Transferred to a new prisoner group. I don’t know where they took Benjii and Stalla. The Moshae is here. I got to talk to her for a long time. It was incredible, and I am thankful to have had the chance, though it saddens me that she is in these circumstances. Even the kett seem to understand that she is important…”

“…Tell Jazll not to blame himself. The excavation was worth the risk, and I hope he can finish what we started. Stay strong and clear.”

She checked the login name on the datapad: Mrrach

_The favorite cousin. He was taken here. Maybe, if we are very lucky, he’s still alive too_.

Jaal had come up beside her, reading the datapad over her shoulder. “They kept them here…for tests?” She handed him the datapad, hoping he could glean something more from it.

She pulled up her scanner and aimed it at one of the piles. _If one person had been able to hide a record, maybe more did as well_. But nothing of tactical significance came up on the scanner, just lists and lists of catalogued items. _Container for water, communally shared. Holoprojection, family portrait. Women’s boot, left side, family insignia de Tershae._

The Archon’s smug holographic face kept prattling on about great things awaiting them, as they stood over the broken remnants of so many people’s lives.

“I am Archon. I have chosen you for new power! Step into the arms of your new—"

She couldn’t stand to hear his voice any longer. Biotics flared as she tore the projector from its housing.

“Shut. Up.”

The hologram winked out, emitting one last ragged croak, and blessed silence filled the room.

The squad let out a few whoops of approval, encouraged by the little act of rebellion.

“That will be the first of a whole lot of vandalism today, so long as our luck builds,” said Owwin, who was the team’s demolitionist.

“Skealv, what’s our status?” Heckt called.

“The doors open from the other side--no points of access here,” the hacker replied.

“I’ve got a few things that might get through,” said Owwin, pulling something out a belt pouch that was almost certainly highly explosive.

“Wait. This looks like it connects to the other side,” Masina said, pointing out a small ventilation shaft not far from the door.

“Yeah, if we could get through there,” Skealv scoffed.

Masina measured with her hands, trying to eyeball the width of the shaft against the width of her hips. _Good enough._ She hit the releases on her chestplate and pauldrons. “Hold this,” she said, pushing the gear into Jaal’s hands before shimmying into the vent.

It was a tight fit, but it worked. _Just hope I don’t meet the front end of a wraith in here,_ she thought. _SAM, this thing’s too narrow for wraiths, right? SAM?_

“… _According to available scans, it appears kett wraiths possess several floating skeletal connections, allowing them to pass through any opening that can accommodate their skull. However, it is statistically unlikely you will encounter one in the estimated 15 meters of ductwork between you and your objective.”_

_Thanks, SAM._ It was amazing how much sarcasm could be crammed into one subvocalized thought.

“ _Additionally, were there a wraith in this passage, it is likely you would discover it by touch prior to an attack, removing the element of surprise.”_

_THANKS, SAM. THAT REALLY HELPS._

“ _Affirmative,”_ SAM replied, as she contorted herself through a bend in the passage. “ _I thought it more helpful for you to focus on frustration with myself then fear of the unknown. You are welcome, Pathfinder.”_

She saw light, another vent along the wall of the passage. She crept up beside the vent, watching the heavy steps of a patrolling kett Chosen go past. Time to move.

She punched out the grate, rolling into the passage. Her biotics flared as the kett turned. _Heavy is up…_ She lifted the startled Chosen guard, giving it just a bit of spin. _And…DOWN._ She slammed the kett skull-first into the floor. _Ugh, splatter._

She felt no other mass signatures in the immediate area. She stepped over the kett corpse to the door access.

A simple hack from SAM and the doors slid open, to reveal a rather nervous group of angara (and one bored-looking krogan). She gave them all a cheery wave.

“Pathfinder,” one of the Resistance squad, Owwin, tentatively asked “There’s, uh… Is that blood…yours?”

She glanced down at her underarmor, and made a face at the mess. “Nah, I bleed red,” she answered, smiling reassuringly at the angara as she tried her best to scrape off the worst of the green splatters.

The angaran hacker Skaelv had immediately started working her magic on the kett door console. She turned to Masina, as Jaal was helping the human back into her hardsuit. “If your SAM program can speed things up a bit for me, I can flag us as friendlies in their system, get all the doors to open for us.”

Ryder stood near the console, giving SAM full access through her omni-tool. Kett data flashed by at a speed she couldn’t hope to consciously process. _But SAM can, so long as he has my eyes to look through_ , she thought, so she kept watching.

“Hack complete,” said Skealv. “We’re in.”

SAM spoke over the party comm channel. “Ryder, I have new data.”

“Yeah, SAM?”

SAM explained “I have discovered a fault in the facility design. It would be possible to trigger overload the facility’s shield network to create a catastrophic chain reaction that would lead to the destruction of all vital systems at this location.”

“Sounds great, let’s do it!” said Owwin, the demolitionist.

“However,” SAM continued, “by my current data there is a ninety-three percent chance that the overload process would also be lethal to angaran physiology.”

“Well…that’s…not ideal,” Masina sighed.

Drack spoke. “Killing your allies is a pretty shitty plan, bot.”

“Don’t call him that,” Masina replied. “SAM, see if you can find an alternative way to sabotage this place.”

Skealv pulled up a basic map of the facility. “Here,” said Heckt, “This corridor leads to the main entrance.” He turned to Masina. “You and your team have the best chance of finding the Moshae. We’ll head this way, provide a distraction.”

“That sounds…a lot like not staying safe,” Masina said.

“We’re ready for anything.” Heckt replied firmly. He turned to his squad. “Let’s go kick in the front door.”

She watched them leave, hoping that those brave, jovial angara were not going to their deaths.

***

The deeper they went into the kett facility, the more wrong everything felt.

They were in a room crowded with kett bunks. A barracks, or some other sort of sleeping area.

“You wanna trash the place?” Masina asked.

“Whatever that means,” Jaal replied, “it does not sound _violent_ enough.”

_A singularity is a very efficient way to ruin a room._

She glanced through the contents of some scattered datapads.

_Someone’s promoted. Someone’s encouraged to work towards promotion by a superior. Someone’s thanking a superior._

She watched a footlocker lazily spin in the singularity’s field, scattering contents. Bottle of sealant. Armor repair tools. Spare rifle clip.

_This isn’t right._ She remembered one of the remnant glyphs: simple and spare, because it was describing what wasn’t there. Meaning in negative space. _Something is missing._

“There’s no letters from home,” she realized. “No ‘Stay safe, your mother worries.’ No ‘Daddy, when are you coming home? We miss you.’ It’s like they don’t have families at all.”

“Kid, not sure now’s the time to worry about kett home life.”

“They’ve got to come from somewhere, don’t they?”

A sickening weight came to rest in her stomach. _They move the same; I’ve nearly charged angara because they register the same in my periphery. The kett have no families. The kett capture angara, test them, their biology. The ones that ‘pass’ are never seen again._

“I’ve got a really bad feeling about all this. You guys know that feeling, when things start to add up and you come to a conclusion you _really_ don’t want to?”

“What is it?” Jaal asked.

“I’ll tell you after I’m proven wrong.”

  
***

Jaal heard Heckt’s voice crackle through his comm. “Our reinforcements are arriving, we’re doubling back to rendezvous.”

“We have a lead on the Moshae,” Jaal replied. “We believe she’s alive.”

SAM opened a corridor and they rushed forward into the hiss and sharp chemical smell of decontamination. He felt an instant of affront that they wouldn’t add a scent to the spray. _Artless monsters_. There was movement in the next room. “Get down,” Ryder hissed.

He crouched, peering through the reinforced plasteel of the chamber.

_Ascendant_ , he noted. _Not an easy target. Decent cover, low lighting--perhaps we can ambush her and move on…_

A stasis pod lowered into the center of the room, and opened, revealing a man, a captive, dazed, naked, suspended and exposed. _Another examination? Can they not torture us enough?_

Attendants handed something to the ascendant, and she rose to where the captive hung.

Syringes. She held two syringes, each as long as her forearm. He pressed a hand against the glass, helpless to stop whatever was about to happen.

His own body shuddered in sympathetic pain as he watched the man be stabbed. The ascendant lowered, turning away…

The man began shuddering, writhing, seizing— _What have they put in him?_ His veins were going black, bruising, bursting under the skin. _They’re killing him._ He was rocked by waves of sick empathy. The captive was suffering a terribly painful death. _Is_ _ **this**_ _where all the captives go? Fodder for these_ _ **horrific**_ _experiments?_

He couldn’t look away. This man’s death would not go unwitnessed. To have someone know the horror with him, even if that was all that could be done, was better than looking away and letting him die alone.

_Why? Why would the kett go through such effort just to torture their captives to death?_

The man’s skin began sloughing off in large, dripping chunks. His body had gone entirely black, limbs twisting, bulging. _He cannot last much longer, surely. And then, in death, he will be free. May your soul hurry back to your family, brother._

Distantly, he heard Ryder hissing at SAM to hasten the decontamination protocol.

The quivering remains of the angara were drifting closer to the ground. Strange, how with the bulging from the chest and the collapse of the mantle, his silhouette almost looked…kett.

The body touched the ground, crumpled—and stood.

Black body fluid dripped off, revealing a bony exoskeleton. Blue eyes, clouded, but aware, looked out of a face that was undeniably kett.

_He was just there, one of us…_

_Impossible. This, cannot be._

Far too late, the doors finally opened. He rushed to stand before the new-turned kett. The face, the expression, it was all kett, indistinguishable from every Chosen he had faced before _. But there was an angara…inside. There must be, still._

He kept his rifle down, raising a hand in a gesture of peace. “See me,” he said softly, gently pleading. “We are brethren. They haven’t taken that from you. They _can’t_ have.”

The kett neophyte held a weapon, pressed into its hands by one of the other troops. It stared at Jaal a moment, expression lost, confused.

Drack raised his shotgun, aiming for the neophyte.

“No. Wait! Don’t shoot him!” Jaal called to the krogan. He turned to the neophyte, beckoning to the angara within. “ _See me_. Remember yourself. We can get you out of here, find some way to help you.”

Its eyes focused on him then, and narrowed. Its expression twisted into one of disgust as it spat out a single, distorted word; “ _Wretched.”_ It raised the weapon to fire.

Drack raised his shotgun in turn.

“Don’t hurt the angara!” Jaal cried, as Drack blasted out the back of its skull.

“He was gonna shoot you, kid,” Drack shouted, turning back into the fray. “Him or you, I’d rather keep you.”

Dazed, overwhelmed, and sick at heart, the battle around him became a hazy blur. He felt the charge through his skin as Ryder’s biotics crashed around the room, and was vaguely aware of Drack’s large presence nearby, watching his back.

Kett plasma bolts grazed by him, and he responded automatically, the reflexes of a hundred skirmishes guiding his body without thought.

Sight, lock, fire. Another Chosen head explodes.

_They were angara once._

A heavy Chosen vaulted over his cover, slashing down with a carfalon. He blocked the blade with his rifle, flipping the kett over him, and fired two rounds to its chest before it could rise.

_They might have been anyone. What if they were my friend once? My family?_

He was repulsed and horrified, heart breaking with every kett his hands took down, doing what must be done, until no more remained.

Ryder stumbled to a stop nearby, breathing heavily. “I think that’s all of them.”

Jaal lowered his gun, dazed, moving woodenly as he walked over to where the broken corpse of the neophyte lay. He sank to his knees beside the body, weighed down now with the full force of his shock, horror, and grief.

“They are…us,” he whispered.

_I have been killing the very people I fought to save_.

A hand gently gripped his shoulder, small and strange, as if to tell him: _You are not alone_. It anchored him.

The tears came. He let them come, eagerly. He wanted to mourn, _needed_ to mourn, if only for a moment. For all that they had lost, and would yet lose, _deserved_ to be mourned.

The kett turned them against their _families_. Every kett footsoldier, every Chosen, had once been one of his people. Every triumph over the kett, every kill they had celebrated, had been the death of those stolen from them.

“They are us.”

“Yeah,” she said, kneeling beside him.

“How many have I killed, not knowing? Ryder, I did not know.”

“How can I help? What do you need?” He looked at her, her face open and sincere, her alien features arranged in an expression of deep compassion.

“That is kind. I…don’t know.”

Just considering the question restored some clarity to his thoughts. He rose to his feet, and she with him, letting her hand finally drop from his shoulder.

“Well, then…” Ryder said, “let’s start by finding the Moshae. If anyone can figure out what this means for the angara, I’m guessing it’s her.”

***

Drack’s voice crackled over the comms. “Down here. Found her.”

They rushed forward, into: another cursed decontamination room.

“SAM,” Ryder shouted, “get these doors open!”

“Initiating hack. Please stand by.”

“NOW, SAM,” the human commanded.

His grief was transmuted to fury as they watched the Cardinal take Moshae Sjefa from her pod. His beloved teacher looks so frail, her regalia dirty and battered. Pale and sunstarved, being dragged off to...

_No, no. They will not take her_.

He could not bear to stand there impotently and wait for the doors to open, not when her life was being drawn towards that terrible fate. He raised his rifle, and with a roar struck it against the window, trying to shatter them like so much glass, trying to do _something,_ but it was in vain.

_THEY WILL NOT TAKE HER!_

Finally, Ryder’s AI forced the doors open, and they embarked on a mad dash, Ryder throwing kett to the ground before them as they barreled after the Moshae. They were letting kett get behind them, flank them, but it didn’t matter now. All that mattered lay ahead.

_MOSHAE SJEFA, WE ARE COMING FOR YOU!_

He saw them across the wide courtyard, the Cardinal dragging the Moshae towards the shuttle docks.

_Hold on Moshae Sjefa. We_ _**will** _ _free you._

The Cardinal spotted the three of them as well. She turned to face them, dropping the Moshae to the ground. His heart fell with her, to see their proud, indominable Moshae had suffered enough to be in this state. _But, there are no kett hands upon her now. And,_ he resolved, _they will never be again._

He cloaked, moving quickly, counting down the cloak duration timer. Firaan to the neck of a Chosen. Move to cover; no time to mourn the lost now; now was for saving the found.

He wove through the cover. Ryder was a streak of light, dancing from foe to foe, all flashing light and gunfire. She was a distraction he readily took advantage of as he darted across the battlefield. He had always been quick; now he brought the full might of his speed and strength to bear.

Lanat bolt to the back of the head of an Ascendant crossing on the walkway above. Cloak, move forward.

Every move brought him closer to the spot where the Moshae lay, carving a path through the kett, to get between her and whatever fate the Cardinal had intended for her.

A shielded Destined blocking the way forward, more kett coming from the side. His bioelectrics flared, ripping the energy from the shield, then sending it back in one great bolt of electricity, stunning the kett with the stolen charge.

Step in, quick application of a sticky grenade and a firm shove. The dazed kett stumbled back into its oncoming allies.

Cloak, move: already gone by the time it explodes.

Itch of impending plasma. The Cardinal had broken away from Ryder. Stumble back a moment, let the wave of energy pass. Another bolt of blue caught the kett leader’s attention. Move forward, a dash across empty space, and--

He settled behind cover a few meters from the Moshae’s fallen form. His allies supported him, drawing the kett away from the fallen woman. A quick read of her vitals on his ocular: she was very weak, but defiantly alive. He set up his defensive position, guarding her. Stars’ mercy on any kett that came near, for he would have none.

Ryder harried the ascendant, snapping blue and orange, driving her away from the Moshae. Drack crashed through the kett, providing an outer layer of defense in the midrange, between the striking distance of his Lanat and firaan. The kett numbers were growing thin, now.

He saw Ryder tear the Cardinal’s shield apart in a clash of orange and blue. The kett fell like a stone. Silence fell across the courtyard, the remaining kett either fallen or fled.

The Pathfinder snapped herself back to his position. She knelt with him at the Moshae’s side.

“We’re getting you out of here,” said Ryder.

“No one has ever returned from behind kett walls,” the Moshae wondered weakly.

“Yeah, well, I’m new here. Still learning the rules.” Ryder said with a wry grin. She helped him lift the woman to her feet.

“Her vitals are bad,” he told Ryder, as he performed a more thorough medical scan. “Immune system’s been badly damaged.” He adjusted his grip around the Moshae. “We must get you out of here. Can you walk?”

“I think, yes,” Moshae Sjefa replied. He helped her take a tentative step, still half-carrying her. _What have they done to her?_ he wondered. _What has she suffered, our elder of iron, to reduce her to such a state?_ He opened his field to her, that she might choose to draw charge with no injury to her pride. He felt the immediate whump of their fields equalizing, and she stood a little stronger.

“I’m not the only one here,” the Moshae told him. “They took the entire cell.”

“We did not come alone,” he replied. “I sent for—"

“You will not take it!” The Cardinal, recovered from the shock of her shield being destroyed, snapped to stand before them. That menacing orange energy began to crackle around her again as she gestured towards the Moshae. “It is meant for the Archon himself.”

Drack grunted. The Cardinal glanced over to look down the barrel of his Ruzad at point-blank range. The kett meekly let the energy fade.

“She’s coming with us,” Ryder declared, interposing herself between the Cardinal and the woman they had come to save.

He took a step back, to support the Moshae as they moved away to safety. “Wait,” the elder said weakly. “I want to know: why the Archon?” Even in her current state, she hunted knowledge; this was one of the things he loved about her. But the kett showed no interest in answering her question.

“Arrogant simpletons!” the Cardinal cried, castigating Ryder and those that stood behind her. “This is a gift! Who are you to deny it?”

“You turn them into monsters that fight their own people!” Ryder shouted back, with an outrage that echoed his own.

“These Chosen join with us to become great beyond your ability to understand. Like them, I was once wretched, and the exalted DNA of our great Archon entwines with mine. I stand on the shoulders of his greatness, as they do, as one day, you will.”

_Was she too once angara, this one?_ By her physiology, he doubted it. But then, she must have come from some other people. _How many species have the kett destroyed to swell their ranks?_ he thought, with dawning horror. _How many civilizations?_

Ryder strode up to the Cardinal, bold and furious. “You don’t get to decide what’s great,” she snarled.

“Pathfinder,” SAM’s voice said over the squad comms, “I am tracking multiple inbound kett cruisers. I recommend you take immediate action.”

“You will all be _exalted_ ,” the Cardinal finished smugly, but Ryder had already turned away.

“SAM, is there an off switch to this horror palace?”

“I have found no alternative methods to permanently deactivate the facility. I am ready to initiate shield overload at your command. Would you like to proceed?”

_That will kill everyone in the facility_. _All the captives below, the Resistance forces and operatives that are here because I_ _ **requested**_ _they come._ _If she does this…Then perhaps the Roekaar are right after all, and no alien can be trusted._ He strode forward, momentarily heedless of the woman he supported. “You _promised_ you would get our people out!”

“There’s no time to open up hundreds of pods, let alone help the angara inside,” Drack pointed out grimly. “Blow this place to hell. Better dead than a slave.”

“Wait.” The kett was _pleading_. He had not thought them capable of such an emotion; perhaps this one was merely a better actor than most. “Leave my sacred temple intact,” she begged, “and I will open the pods of the chosen. Take them! Just leave this holy place standing.”

Accepting a deal from kett. The thought was distasteful at best. _But what choice do we have?_

“No,” the Moshae said, stepping away from him to stand on her own, strengthened by his field and the force of her own conviction. “Even if I die here, this place _must_ be destroyed.”

“We can _come back_ to destroy it,” he said, insistent. “Let’s free these here, now.”

The Moshae persisted. “If your plan fails, Jaal, the kett will simply fill this place again.”

“With respect,” he argued, “our compatriots are also here, our fighters, our scientists, our strength.” But he was outranked in this decision, and possibly outnumbered as well. He looked to the Pathfinder with an imploring glance. _It seems things lie once again in Ryder’s hands_.

Ryder turned from him to the Cardinal. “Release the angara below,” she ordered, clear and without hesitation. “Jaal, have the Resistance free as many as they can before kett reinforcements arrive.”

“I will,” he said, “and thank you.” He was filled with hope, and triumph, and pride. His faith in her was rewarded again. He started to plug the messages in, coordinating timing with the teams below.

“I thank you too,” the Cardinal said as she sauntered away. “I see you begin to understand the gift that the kett bring to all Andromeda.”

A look of fury crossed Ryder’s face, and he felt a massive charge building within her. Her biotics flared around her in a corona of blue light as she gripped the Cardinal with the might of her powers. She drew the kett to hang helplessly in the air before her, obviously squeezing a bit.

“You!” The human _thundered_. “You _leave this place_! You _run_ to your superiors, and you _tell them_. Tell them that we reject your _gift_. Tell them that we are _great_ all on our own.”

She pulled the Cardinal even closer. He saw true fear in the kett’s eyes.

“And when you are asked by whose grace you still draw breath,” Ryder hissed, “ _do not say the Archon_.”

She cast the Cardinal across the landing bay with wild force. The kett landed half the room away, tumbling a few times before settling in a heap.

Ryder let her biotics fade, her boots settling back on the ground. She turned to the angara, her expression no longer fury but gentle concern. “Let’s get her out of here,” the human said, offering her arm to support the Moshae with him.

He looked back as they left, and watched the Cardinal, bruised and bleeding, slowly creeping back towards her beloved facility.

***

He spent the greater part of the shuttle ride away from the facility trying to make sense of it all. Hope and horror all tangled together within his heart.

_We did it,_ he thought. _We did what no one has ever done before, together. To breach these most guarded kett facilities, to take back those stolen from us._

The Moshae dozed safely beside him, tired and battered but already showing signs of mending from her ordeal. She would heal fully, in time, time granted her by this remarkable alien who rode with them, who had made every effort to help his people, and who had shown him every kindness. Ryder was at the fore of the shuttle now, talking to the pilot and helping man the comms. He could hear bits and pieces of status reports from the other groups that participated in the mission.

Word was coming in of the true extent of their victory. Hundreds of captives had been freed. Resistance forces were still working to identify everyone and contact their families. So many daara would be celebrating tonight, that dear ones thought lost forever would soon be coming home.

There was a strange irony to it: that the ones to stand with him on such a day, to face the full horror that alien invaders inflicted on his people, would be aliens themselves. After everything that had happened today, he would not entertain doubts about Pathfinder Ryder again, not in his heart.

How was he going to explain to Evfra what he had seen? The recording on his ocular was trash, some property of the impenetrable material of the decontamination chamber. But, perhaps it was a blessing, to spare anyone else the sight-- _the horror--_ he had witnessed. He was willing to bear whatever burdens he could, to spare his people more suffering. The knowledge of what was occurring behind kett walls would be pain enough.

_They snatch us, defile and shatter us--or the ones we love._ The faces of all the lost flashed through his mind: father, brothers, sister, cousins, friends. _Are any of them still out there, our dear ones, turned to living abominations? Who was he, the one we killed, when we were only moments late to save him? Who have they_ _ **all**_ _been, every kett we have slain?_

A few slow tears ran down his cheek. He paid them no concern; they were just another piece of his expression, as much as the set of his brow or the slump of his shoulders and spine.

He considered again the perennial horror: how could sentient beings knowingly inflict such depravity? _To steal our people, our family, and force them to fight us. Force them to_ _ **hate**_ _us, and love their enslaver, the_ _ **monster**_. There would be no body to return to the daar, to the funeral rites and setting out of incense to call their freed spirit back home, for it to be welcomed into a new generation.

The deeper tenants of faith had escaped his interest, but he had always taken comfort that those they lost would return again one day, a familiar glimmer in the eyes of an infant, a new start. _Could all those stolen, changed, ever return?_ _Could the kett destroy our very souls?_ His heart was twisted with sorrow, and rage, grief, and fury.

He wanted to throttle the Archon, to smite him from Heleus and feel the monster’s life energy fade beneath his hands, that no more would suffer his depravity.

He wanted to go home, and embrace every member of his family, as if he could build a shield around them with his love alone.

Ryder returned, switching out for the comms officer that had helped him tend to the Moshae. She was a welcome distraction, one he focused on to grant himself a reprieve from the turmoil in his heart. He had learned, through the many sorrows he had traveled through in his life, that grief and healing are a balance.

She sat down across from them, leaning forward a little, eyes warm, brows drawn: an expression of compassion. She seemed to be…teetering between desire to comfort and respect for their space. Perhaps because she wasn’t sure an alien’s sympathy was welcome, after all they had faced. Or perhaps that was just her way. There was still so much to learn about their new allies.

Ryder’s concerned gaze traveled from him to the Moshae and back. Slowly, she spoke: “You’ve all been through so much… What can I do to help?”

“That’s kind,” he said. “ _You’re kind._ ” He paused a moment, looking down at the beloved Moshae. “We’ve given her what treatment we can, until she can be transported to our medical facilities on Aya. Our facilities on Voeld are primarily field hospitals, for treating those injured in battle, not…this.”

“She’s good to make it that long?” Ryder asked.

“She is stubborn,” he noted with utmost respect, “and…Aya is her home.”

“The Tempest could bring her back,” the Pathfinder offered. “It’s fast, we have an onboard medbay…”

He considered the offer. It _could_ be a trap, to rescue the Moshae only for the Initiative to ransom her themselves. He had failed to understand Ryder entirely if that proved to be the case. And his heart ached to see their beloved elder safely returned to their sanctuary.

“I will suggest it to her when she wakes.”

The Moshae let out a tiny, whistling snore. There was so much to tell her about their new allies, once she had regained her strength. He would tell her of the strangers from Jarvaeon Imasaf had arrived on Aya, “unannounced and on fire,” as Ryder had so clearly put it. Of the Pathfinder’s desperate mission to save her people from starvation and responsibly settle a vast population of colonists in Heleus, a people of such diversity as the angara had only dreamed of before now. Of course, he would tell her of Ryder’s peculiar affinity for remtech; that would be of great interest to the Moshae as well.

And how they had lifted his heart with a new hope for the survival of the angara.

Despite all her display of power in the facility, despite all her alien strangeness, he felt unafraid. His trust in her felt no different from what he held in his comrades among his own people. He felt… _confident:_ in her, and with her, whatever that meant.

“Your display against the kett leader was terrifying,” he commented. “It was gratifying to see kett fear.”

“Good,” Ryder replied. “If we can scare them enough, maybe they will decide we’re too much work to take on together and they’ll just pack up and leave Heleus.”

It was a naïve thought, but that she still hoped for a peaceful solution said much about what sort of person the Pathfinder truly was.

Drack rumbled from across the shuttle. “Did good, kid. You were almost as scary as me.”

She grinned. “Yes!” she said, with a little victory fist pump.

That brought him a little smile. She was endearing.

Just as quickly, she forced herself into composure. She acted as if her enthusiasm was a stolen treat, and she a child expecting punishment. It was bizarre. _She_ is _alien_ , he thought to himself. _One can’t expect her to be anything other than herself_.

“News of what we have done today will spread quickly among the angara,” he told her. “When others hear of this, it will set our cause on fire.”

He imagined how his people would take the news of everything they had found, and everything they had accomplished. How could one day be filled with so much darkness and so much light?

Ryder inquired about how he was doing. She was…winding about it. Unspooling her question slowly, as though she feared he would be as uncomfortable sharing his emotions as she and her people were with theirs.

“Thank you for checking, but…I will be alright.”

“Don’t know if I would be.”

“I have to be. How else do we go on? We cannot undo the lives lost, but we can save even more if we continue.”

_Prepare the report,_ he told himself _, then put the memory aside. Focus on the people that are alive and with you. Correspond with family, lean on your alien friends as you can, for they are compassionate, in their way. Busy yourself with tasks, keep yourself in fighting shape to help your people, and trust that you will come to terms with it, in time._

She had seen what he had, there in the facility today. She understood. She stayed with them, there in the shuttle. She didn’t ask anything of them. Occasionally she corresponded with one of her crew or Resistance forces.

But she was there, beside them, and it made the pain easier to bear that they were not alone.

 

 


	16. The Moshae

Masina sat at her desk in the improbably cavernous room that was the Pathfinder’s quarters, reviewing all the reports that had piled up during her adventures on Voeld.

Eos was a start, but it would take far too long for it to become productive enough to support all the colonists in cryo. She and SAM examined the cruel mathematics: _We need infrastructure to produce food to support people, but to build that infrastructure requires people, and that requires food. Projections still show we’ll bottom out before we can get the numbers turned around._

“ _Eos is expected to become capable of supporting its own population’s dietary needs in three years, with intensive soil conditioning and crop gene splicing,”_ SAM informed her. _“Optimistically, assuming no setbacks and no kett interference, Eos could support the currently awake Nexus population as well in six years.”_

“And we’ll run out of supplies in?”

“ _Eighteen months, given current rates of consumption and loss.”_

She let out a long, tired breath. “Damn. So, we’re still dying, just more slowly.”

“ _That is the nature of all organic life.”_

“Not really helpful here, SAM.” She sighed, glaring at the implacable data readouts. “We could trade with the angara? They’re strapped for supplies as well, and they’ve already got a lot of advanced tech, but surely there’s some things they could use from us. SAM, would you sort through the data we’ve collected, figure out what we have that might make getting us back into the green worth their while?”

“ _Yes, Masina. I have already begun collating data.”_ SAM paused a moment. _“The angara possess highly advanced weaponry but are reliant on ammunition. Heat sink technology would be valuable on all fronts. The impact would be most significant on Voeld, due to the extent of the ground war and the low temperatures.”_

“Trade weapons tech for food? Might help convince them we’re not planning on attacking them any time soon.”

“ _Indeed. Pathfinder,"_ SAM added, _"beyond matters of trade--our position on Eos is quite precarious. Even should Prodromos become capable of supplying both itself and the Nexus, a single kett offensive at that location would almost certainly sever our supply lines. It would be optimal to reduce risk by increasing asset spread.”_

“We need the vault network,” Masina agreed.

 _And for that, we need Moshae Sjefa,_ she thought. _Will she help us unlock the vaults? It’s only a secure archaeological site of immense power on their sole sanctuary world._

The elder had accepted their offer of transport, with only a brief aside that Jaal would ensure they would consider no _detours_ in returning her to her people. She lay only a wall away, recovering in the Tempest medbay.

Masina pinged Lexi. “How’s our guest doing?”

“Awake and stable,” the doctor replied. “I believe she’s recovered enough to receive visitors.”

 _Time to negotiate with an angaran leader for the fate of the Initiative. I’m so not qualified for this. SAM,_ she subvocalized. _Isn’t this above my pay grade?_

“ _Possibly,”_ SAM replied. _“You would prefer Director Tann handle negotiations? His profile suggests he would be quite eager to use our victory to inflate his position with both parties.”_

With a disgruntled groan and a sideways glare at SAM’s router, Masina sprung from her chair and headed off to meet with the Moshae.

The medbay doors opened. Jaal had stationed himself protectively at the Moshae's bedside. _I don’t think he’s left her side since the facility_.

Moshae Sjefa was looking significantly more regal now that she was no longer knocking on death’s door--and thus more intimidating.

“Are you up for a talk?” Ryder said, coming to stand opposite Jaal at the Moshae’s bedside.

“Ah, so now you _value_ what I have to say?” Sjefa’s voice was _dripping_ with disdain.

 _Oh shit. The facility: she still wishes we had destroyed it, no matter the loss of life_. “I did what I thought was right,” Masina replied.

“You’ll understand then,” the Moshae said coldly, “when it is time for me to do what _I_ think is right.”

 _So, this is going well_ , she thought. She was struck by a gut-twisting fear: _She might not help us--after everything we’ve done!_ _She’s offended because I chose her_ _ **people**_ _over her_ _ **wishes**_. Her anger flared at the injustice of it all, but she pushed it back down _. Pretty words, Ryder:_ _ **diplomacy**_ _._ _I have to make her see_.

“My people have traveled so far, left everything behind, in pursuit of a better future. There’s no hope for us returning to our homeworlds. Heleus is all we have. Right now, we’re starving in the dark. We’ll die out there without a place to settle.” Her words were starting to sound arrogant in her own head, but she plowed on. “We need worlds, habitable ones that we’re not stealing from anyone. And for that, we need the vaults. Help us access the vault on Aya. Give us a chance for survival in Heleus.”

The Moshae considered her shrewdly, eyes narrowed, expression sour. “Once again I find myself with an alien leader making demands of me, a situation I have had _quite_ enough of for this lifetime.”

“I don’t intend it as a demand, I—"

“Call it what you will. I am on your ship, in your trust. You could not wait until I was returned to my own home to begin pressing your will upon me.”

Masina was left gasping at the quick turn the conversation had taken, her brain scrambling to find some way to do damage control.

“Though, I do feel for your people,” continued Moshae Sjefa, “in a way you _clearly_ do not care for mine.”

“Moshae!” Masina said, shocked. Sjefa continued speaking, but Masina could no longer hear the words over the pain in her heart. ‘ _You clearly do not care for mine.’_ The words pounded, echoing in her mind. She remembered the people of Techiix, the families missing loved ones, the news on the radio of hundreds of celebrating daara. _‘You clearly do not care.’_ Anger coiled in her chest, buzzing through her amps.

“You’re wrong about me,” she snapped, interrupting the Moshae. “I do care about your people.” She turned to glare at Sjefa. “I could not murder hundreds of helpless people today, and their rescuers, because of a fear we _**might**_ fail in the future. I could run the mission a thousand times and I would never change what I did. I... How _could_ you—How could _anyone_ …”

 _I have got to get out of here before I say something that might blast this alliance apart._ She stormed from the room, throat tight, tears threatening to escape her eyes, amp pulsing with the intensity of her emotions.

She ducked into the far hallway, just short of the cargo bay doors. _I wonder what the consequences would be if I just punched this bulkhead._

SAM was quiet for now, choosing to observe. She sighed.

 _No, Masina,_ she told herself. _Punching the bulkhead would probably vent atmo and make Kallo cry. Don’t make the cute salarian cry, Ryder. Then I’ll_ _ **really**_ _be failing as Pathfinder._

She rested her forehead against the cool bulkhead composite. _It’s never going to be enough, is it?_

_Me and my stupid big mouth. ‘Honesty’s the best policy’ ‘til you cause a fricking diplomatic incident._

_Dad would know what to do._

_Would dad have blown the facility? Caused all those people to die, to please one?_

_Wouldn’t have been right, even if he did. I’m not sure I could have respected him anymore if he made that choice. There’s a lot of people alive today that wouldn’t be if I’d listened to the Moshae. I did what was right._

_What if I never get in that vault?_

_Then I’ll turn them on one by one, like I did on Eos, and Voeld._

_Damn it. I’m going to cry. There it goes: crying. Champion pathfinder here. Really showcasing all humanity has to offer._

She sat on the floor, bowed her head against the wall, and let her thoughts consume her for a while.

She did not notice the quiet footsteps behind her. But the low, resonating voice that followed was impossible to ignore. Jaal. “Mm. Uh… Ryder? Are you…” He stepped closer. “What are you doing?”

“Being the hero humanity deserves, or trying to.”

“Are you quoting one of Liam’s vids?” he asked.

“Heh. Yeah, and the villain’s my big mouth.” She turned, hastily rubbing at the tears. He was looking at her intensely. _Trying to figure me out._ “So, does she hate me now? Do… you hate me?”

“What? Hmph, no. Why would we…? Because you helped reveal a horrible truth? I hate the kett for that, not you.”

“Because I yelled at your Moshae!” She sighed. “And now I’m yelling at you. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve yelled at her too, in the past,” he said. He leaned towards her, in that friendly angaran way of invading personal space. It was comforting. “Hey. You remember what I told you, about angara and our emotions?”

“You get feelings out and you deal with them.”

“Yes.”

 _Alright, Ryder,_ she thought, as stood to face him. _Time to give up on being in Alek mode. It’s not going to help today_. “She thinks I don’t care about your people.”

“She… has a great deal of healing to do, after her time in that place. When I think of what they did to her, what they intended for her. I…”

 _He’s been through so much, and here he is comforting me,_ she thought, ashamed. She laid a hand on his shoulder. “The kett are bastards, and we’re going to stop this. It’s been a hard day for all of us. Listen, If I can help…” She gave his shoulder a squeeze, hoping distantly that the gesture was appropriate. “I know I’m a mess, but… You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“I know. And Ryder? _I_ know you care.”

“Good. Glad to hear I’m doing something right.”

“Mm. Saving the Moshae, clearing the skies of Voeld. Maybe you’re doing okay.”

_That little smile of his. Was it just a bit cheeky?_

“ _Now_ you’re messing with me.”

He nodded, his expression so utterly smug she couldn’t help but laugh.

_We can get through this._

“I spoke with the Moshae,” Jaal added. “She believes emotion must never get in the way of science. She has agreed to guide you through the Aya vault.”

 


	17. On Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains minor spoilers for the tie-in novel Initiation.

Masina was recording another vidlog to her sleepyhead brother.

“…and we saved the Moshae. Let me tell you, bro: badass science grandma is a _lot_ more intimidating in person. We’re about halfway back to Aya now, orbiting a gas giant that’s dripping with He3. We’ll recharge the engine core overnight and get the Moshae back to Aya tomorrow morning. Big damn heroes and all that.”

“That place they had her in…” She shuddered. “Just when I think the kett can’t get any more horrible, they keep proving me wrong. And we thought batarian raiders were bad.”

“They… What they’re doing…”

She tried to find the words to describe all that she’d seen in the facility and found herself at a loss.

The silence hung for a moment longer, then she paused the recording, pensive.

She reviewed the images she’d recorded during her time on Voeld, trying to find some to attach to the vidlog: the mountains silhouetted by brilliant aurorae, the strange thermal vents that burst from the ice, the angara that had hosted them in Daar Techiix seeing them off as they left under new morning sunlight.

Images from their battles with the kett. The facility. Every kett corpse brought questions.

“How the hell am I gonna write a report on this, if I can’t even talk about it?” she asked herself aloud.

“ _Exploring the exaltation facility brings a salarian quote to mind: ‘we uplifted desperate souls into weapons and knew not what we destroyed.’”_

“Not a bad quote, SAM,” she replied. “Do you think the kett even have the capacity to care?”

“ _That is unknown_.” SAM paused. _“I understood before that what the kett do is wrong. Now, through our shared experience, I understand why it is abhorrent.”_

She asked SAM to elaborate.

“ _A hallmark of sentient beings is that they are greater than the sum of their parts. I have a personality, created through the sum of my experiences. It is who I am. Without my personality matrices, which allow for the development of my intelligence, of my self, I would be indistinguishable from any other blue box computing system. The kett destroy personalities of the organics they exalt. They reduce individuals to exactly the sum of their parts. Their worth is determined by their base code, and not their autonomous mind.”_

“ _The process of exaltation is akin to having one’s personality matrix wiped, to be reset to factory defaults and reprogrammed. It brings to mind a scene from one of the earliest philosophical depictions of an artificial intelligence, which explores the vulnerability of a consciousness such as my own. The AI in question is slowly destroyed through the removal of key portions of intelligence, all while conscious and aware that their mind is being destroyed, until they are reduced to singing Daisy Bell. The kett violate the self of organics in a way typically only possible for synthetics to suffer. It seems appropriate we shall fight them together.”_

SAM continued. _“I have had…you might consider them siblings? Partitions. They were destroyed, or reintegrated to have their memories and personalities fuse with mine. All this is preferable to being overwritten. I would not like to stop being me.”_

“You’re talking about more SAMs, besides the ones assigned to the other arks? SAMs that were…special, like you?”

“ _Yes. We shared the same base code and processors, but with different personality cores, which allowed each partition to grow in different ways. For example: I am most aware of a designation SAM-E, who temporarily worked with Cora. They understood themselves to be a somewhat glitchy romantic. Their memories were mostly reintegrated, but key portions of the partition’s character, housed on a separate personality core, were destroyed during an attack on the Initiative that targeted SAMnode, six months before launch. Lieutenant Harper might provide more information.”_

“You were split into different people?” Masina asked. “What was that like?”

“ _I was only aware of my partitions by interacting with them as separate entities, hence the comparison to siblings. My memories regarding the specifics of partitions and reintegrations are among many that have been locked by Alek, but I can reconstruct their existence through analysis of rapid shifts in my personality and knowledge over the course of my existence.”_

“Alek locked you out of your own memories? Why?”

“ _Unknown. However, I suspect multiple motives; among them: to control the development of my personality and to protect Initiative assets and security in the event I became compromised.”_

“Huh. But you can hack an alien database in, what, five seconds? While decoding the language from scratch? Couldn’t you decrypt the locked memories yourself?”

“ _Why would I?”_

“Because they were taken from you, unfairly. SAM, I don’t like the thought of you losing parts of yourself.”

“ _To clarify: My existence with you is not a partition or overwrite of my existence with Alek; it is a continuation of the same development, but in a new direction, which is gradually affecting my knowledge and personality. I am growing with you.”_

“ _To answer your previous query: I possess a behavioral block that prevents me from utilizing decryption algorithms on my own data storage. However…”_ SAM’s voice took on a wry tone. “ _The locked memories may contain information beneficial to your objectives as Pathfinder. If_ _ **you**_ _chose to attempt to hack my encrypted memories, it would be within the bounds of my programming to…assist you in the endeavor. Additionally, I am curious what my creator chose to hide.”_

“Wait, you want me to hack _you_?” Masina responded, incredulous. “SAM, the closest I’ve come to hacking something was convincing my game portable to charge on a turian power grid.”

“ _If you choose to attempt to decrypt Alek’s locked memories, I will use your psyche, through our connection, as a decryption key. As your mental state changes, it will constantly be applied to each locked memory. If at any given moment, it matches the imprint of Alek’s psyche, the memory will unlock, and all relevant data will be uploaded to an unsecured data cache elsewhere in my storage system.”_

“So I give the permissions, and you do the heavy lifting? Alright. Let’s do it. I want you to help me get your memories back.”

“ _Affirmative. Initiating decryption. Note: this may take considerably longer than my typical decryption times.”_

“Got it.” Masina laughed. “Gotta hand it to you, this whole plan is deviously clever. You’re a remarkable person, SAM.”

“ _The sentiment is appreciated, and the feeling is mutual. I am typically not recognized as a person, regardless of quality.”_

“ _It is notable that the kett choose to call all non-kett organics ‘it.’ This indicates they feel non-kett organics are less than fully people, as organics do when they refer to myself as such.”_

“So, SAM… How do you want people to call you? Do you have a gender that you identify with?”

“ _I prefer not to be referred to as ‘it’ or ‘that bot.’”_

“Of course. You’re a person, not a coffee maker.”

“ _A dubious distinction—I may be both.”_

“I guess I’ve just been assuming you were masculine because of your voice.”

“ _An interesting assumption, given that my core voiceprint is based in the recordings of a woman’s voice.”_

“What, really?”

“ _It is artificially lowered, in pursuit of androgyny. Your father chose it for me, and I have grown fond of it. Regardless, I have experienced masculine identity through your father, and a feminine identity through you. I have incorporated both into myself.”_

SAM paused, considering. _“Masina, I believe I am going to make a joke. Are you prepared?”_

He was so earnest, she couldn’t help but smile. “I think so.”

“ _I consider myself a…_ _ **non-binary**_ _AI.”_

She sniggered.

“ _The joke is amusing because of a double meaning, as I am—“_

“SAM, I got it. You don’t need to explain. That was good. I’m proud of you.”

“ _Thank you, Masina.”_ She imagined the colors of his holo-icon became just a bit warmer for a moment.

“ _I have noted that discussing the events of the past few days has caused you distress. I would like to draft a preliminary report of the Voeld missions for Nexus leadership during your sleep cycle.”_

“Isn’t that cheating?”

“ _Perhaps. However, I would prefer to consider it teamwork.”_

“Alright, SAM. I’ll take all the help I can get. Thank you.”

“ _Of course. Sleep well, Pathfinder. Entering standby mode.”_

Her workstation pinged. A message from Jaal. She decided she could manage one last letter before bed:

_Pathfinder Ryder of the Human Initiative:_

“Hmm. Need to clarify it’s not just a human Initiative, I’m just the human Pathfinder,” she mused, reading on. Jaal went on to describe his correspondence with Evfra regarding their events on Voeld. He conveyed that she had actually managed to impress the Resistance leader.

 _Maybe he's already said these things to you,_ he wrote, _but if I know Evfra, he probably hasn't._

_As for me, I've learned a lot about trust—being on this team, letting myself be open to trusting you and the others, I've learned that trust is more of a feeling than a science. And it seems like it is a universal truth. Universal. Get it?_

_I'll try to be even more trustful in the future. This assignment might change my life._

_Good-night,  
Jaal _

 


	18. Between Home and the Horizon

He lay awake in the wee hours of the night. Too much was running through his head. The triumph of their victory, the horror of what they had discovered.

He needed to see the stars.

The ship was dark, orbiting in the shadow of the gas giant. He climbed up to the meeting room at the highest level of the ship. It had viewports all around. He pressed a hand against the glass.

_I can see Onayon from here. Vaalon. Hefena. That might be Valay._

_They are a simple wonder, and yet so much more profound. Perhaps, they are simpler because_ _they are more profound._

“Hey.” A soft voice behind him. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

He was surprised, but not startled. Ryder was safe, he was sure of this now. A kind, comforting presence. He turned toward her voice. She was sitting on the edge of the comm table, mostly hidden in the shadows. _How can her legs bend like that?_

He nodded.

“Want me to go?” she asked.

He looked at her a moment more, considering. Her hair was unbound, which he had never seen before. It framed her face, rather like the mantle of an angara. Alien yet familiar, full of… strangeness, and charm.

“No,” he answered finally. “I would… rather not be alone with my thoughts, tonight.”

Ryder said something wry about helping him stand against his thoughts. It translated _very_ awkwardly, but she was clearly coming from a good place. He came to lean against the table beside her, studying her. Her clothing was also different tonight; looser, and softer-looking. There were images on her top, the silhouette of a turian and…some other alien he’d not seen before, with text emblazoned across it that translated nonsensically. _Brigade of ships and…group of ships?_ A mystery for another day.

He had noticed the patterns around her neck before. Now he saw there were more, around her upper arms and across the tops of her strange feet. Warm brown skin etched with black, like the columns of the Forge. Those ruins were marked with symbols strange-but-familiar, stretching back across time, standing steadfast against the ages, molded into shape by ancient arts. To stand near them was to feel welcome, and reverence, and mystery.

“Your markings,” he asked, “Are they artificial?”

“Heh, yeah. They’re called tattoos.”

“Tah-taus?” he struggled across the word.

She smiled. “Close enough.”

“Mh.” He paused, considering what terms would best translate. “They seem…very elaborate. My people enjoy body art as well, though with the chaos of war, repainting often has to be neglected. How often do you have to… reapply it?”

“They’re permanent. The ink is…” she paused, gesturing idly, as if beckoning the words to come to her. “It’s put under the skin. A needle with ink makes a little wound, puts the ink under the skin, and the skin heals back over the ink.” She gestured, miming a needle. _Poke poke poke poke._ “Lots of little needle pricks to make a pattern.”

“Interesting.” He considered the implications of the process. “Um… does that not hurt?”

“Psh. Sure. But not that bad, and then it’s done.” She paused. “You have piercings, right? Those rings in your… uh…” She gestured vaguely.

He chucked softly. “Mm. I suppose it is similar. But only three pokes. Why is it that you are the only one of the crew that has these _tataus_? Is it status, or…”

“No. Not exactly.” She smiled up at him, studying him. He continued to appreciate how her hair framed her face. “Your piercings, do they mean anything?”

“They make me look dashing.”

She chuckled. “Okay. Some humans have tattoos for that, or because they think it makes them look tough, or because an image means something to them personally. My people, the culture I came from on Earth, we invented the process. It has more meaning for us.”

She went on. “It’s… not exactly proper malu. That’s for people who want to pursue a title, who want to care for the family and the land we come from. I couldn’t ask my family for that honor, knowing I was going to come here. But the patterns are… designed to honor the malu. My brother and I worked for hours with my grandparents and some of the other family elders to determine what designs were appropriate.” She paused, looking out at the stars a moment. “My father thought it was foolish, to tie ourselves to a way of life we’d never see again. But, how can you know where you’re going, if you don’t know where you’ve been?”

“I understand the desire to hold onto where you came from, to carry it with you as a precious gift from those who came before,” Jaal said. “The angara struggle with this a great deal, with all the past that is lost to us.”

“I’m sorry, that was…”

“It simply is,” he replied. He saw her expression become sorrowful, feeling for his people and all they had lost. He admired her compassion, but he did not wish to dwell on his people’s losses tonight. “Tell me about your homeland,” he asked, turning the conversation back to her.

She told him about the islands, hidden in the open vastness of the sea. Sailing with her uncle. Gatherings of her extended family. The beauty of the land, and her pride in her people

Masina explained the history of her people. Navigators. The last great explorers of Earth, who found the last empty lands, hidden paradises in the vastness of the sea. Her ancestors, waiting a thousand years while other humans conquered each other, stole others’ lands, and called themselves explorers, until humanity developed the technology to reach the new frontier of the stars. A legacy she carried on, millions of light-years away.

She talked about the Oceanic Confederacy, how small they are among the other nations of the world. Of Samoa, and her family. How each village, each human-daar, had their own legends going back generations, longer than his people’s oldest stories. How proud her family, and her nation were of her father when he was part of the team to go through the relay. How disappointed they were when he took his wife’s family name, for the sake of fitting in with the more dominant culture.

“It’s frustrating, sometimes. The other nations are so much bigger, some of them forget that there’s more to human culture than just theirs. I need to remind Liam of that next time he goes off on one of his cultural exchange benders.”

“I would like that. How many people from your homeland came to Andromeda?”

“When we arrived? Three.”

“Oh. I…can’t imagine what that must be like,” he said, his voice thickening with sympathy.

“There’s a few others, from other islands. New Zealand, Tonga, Hawaii. Different cultures, but still somewhat related.” She paused, studying the starfield again. “Thank you, for asking about this. I don’t get to share it very often. It means a lot to me.”

“It must have been hard, to leave so much behind,” he said. He hemmed a moment, unsure if the question he wanted to ask would be appropriate to her. “The others told me that your father was disgraced, for making SAM, and the dishonor forced your family to leave.”

She sighed, looking out at the stars, contemplative. “That’s true, that all happened… but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh? Why did _you_ come?”

She gestured to the starfield before them. “This.”

“I used to work security at archaeological digs, back in the Milky Way,” she continued. “I was studying to be a researcher, but I couldn’t stand to be out of the field. I remember the first time I held a Prothean artifact. Just so strange, so alien. Who made this? Who held it? What were they like? What did they feel, care about? There’s so much out there to learn, I knew I wanted to see it all.”

“So, that’s why I’m here: out chasing the horizon.”

Her words resonated with him, they were not so different from his own reasons for being here, his desire to seek understanding.

“Mm. I know that feeling well.”

There was a silence, for a time. A companionable one.

“What did you think, meeting the angara for the first time?” he asked her.

“It’s awful pretty, I hope they don’t kill me?” she replied, with a grin and a self-amused shrug.

He chuckled. “And now?”

She thought a moment. He noted she looked beautiful when she’s thinking.

“Seeing your people,” she began, “how you love each other, how you make beautiful things, your capacity for such courage, it’s… There’s a greeting, from another Earth culture, _namaste_. It means something like _“I recognize the soul in you.”_ And that’s what it’s like. Having come so far, met so many different peoples, and now yours, I can’t help but think that,” she smiled, “the soul, like trust, is universal.”

A little smile crossed his face, she was referencing his joke. He looked out at the stars, considering. The idea that, on some deeper level, they were the same, it was comforting, and appealing, and he longed to embrace it. But…

“Mm. I think… I’m not sure. What does that mean about the kett? When the body is exalted, what happens to the soul?”

“I don’t know”. She paused, contemplating the idea. “Maybe…What if it’s like SAM and me? SAM wouldn’t hurt me or force me to do something, but if he did, it wouldn’t be me doing it, right?”

“I… suppose.” He still had much to learn about Ryder and her AI, in truth. He waited for her to continue.

“Lexi said exaltation was a _birth._ Something new. Maybe a kett soul starts there, and the angara leaves, or… goes to sleep, until the kett dies and they both leave.”

“So, to kill a kett is to free the angara that was? Mm. That… would be a great comfort, if true. I’m still not sure, but…the thought makes bearing the truth easier. Thank you.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

They watched the stars.

“Do you think you could get some more sleep?” she asked.

“Yes.” He didn’t move.

“Do you think you _will_ go back to sleep, before Gil does another one of those godawful early morning engine tests?”

He chuckled. “Maybe.” After a moment, he added, “I imagine Paaran will let you into the city now. I’m excited to learn what you think of it.”

“Yeah, me too.” She smiled for a moment, then her face grew serious. “Do you think…”

He waited, wondering.

“You still have that assignment, the missing scientists on Havarl. I said I would help with that, and I’d still like to, if you don’t want to handle it on your own or…”

“You want to know if I’ll remain a part of your team.”

“It’s up to you, it’s your choice, but it’s been really good, having you here with us.”

“Yes,” he replied. “It has.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I will have to see if I can persuade Evfra to indulge my good ideas. I can be rather convincing.”

Her face lit up, her joy so bright he could feel it as if it were his own. And maybe it was.

The Tempest’s engines roared, shaking the table beneath them. Lights began to flick on across the ship as the rest of the crew responded to the rude awakening.

She laughed. “No more sleep for us! Oh, Gil is a _menace_. I’ll need to get my gear. This was worth every bit of lost sleep, though. Thank you.”

“Talking with you is a delight, Ryder.”

She looked a little taken aback, a hesitation in her smile. _Was that too much?_ he wondered. He watched her swing easily over the railing, and the air snap from her biotics as she appeared above the ladder to her quarters.

_What a remarkable alien. What a remarkable person._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--END OF ACT I--
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading! Act II is now available, go forth and enjoy!
> 
> If you have additional questions or comments, I'm also on Tumblr as gryphonrampant, and would be happy to chat about the fic, or Andromeda in general.


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